


In the claws of the Owl

by orphan_account



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Branding, Codependency, Conditioning, Dark fic, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Elements of pet play, Facial, Fighting Kink, Forced Orgasm, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lord of Chaos! Owlman, M/M, Masochism, Master & Servant, Masturbation, Mind Break, Minor Character Death, NOT Jason Todd, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pain Kink, Past Torture, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Psychological Torture, Public Blow Jobs, Rape, Red Hood! Joker, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sexual Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Owlman, the Great bird of Sorrows, White King of Gotham, is barely human any more. There is something terrifying about the secret tyrant of Gotham who is watching all the time. The Red Hood wishes he didn't love him. The Owl had tried to drown him in chemicals, murdered his family, broken him again and again with torture, but this time Owlman has something worse in mind for his favorite pet enemy.





	1. Denial

To the Red Hood of Earth-Three there was nothing more horrifying than seeing the Owlman smile.

It was thankfully a rare occasion. Most of the time Gotham’s secret tyrant kept an expression of quiet, smug superiority, satisfied that his schemes were proceeding according to plan. The Red Hood treasured every moment he disturbed those plans and the smug smile became a real rage. Every moment he managed to shake the hold of the Owl on the city felt like revenge. Every person he managed to save from the Owl’s claws was like saving…them.

He had lost so many people. The Owl had hunted them down and killed them all. Everyone he loved, everyone who loved him, those were the Owl’s favorite prey. The ones he cared about were the ones that suffered, that’s why he tried his hardest to keep the Owl’s attention, his _anger_ on him alone. He could bear the pain, no matter how angry he made the Owl they never came close to killing _him_.

The Red Hood thought of him as the Owl because the Man seemed almost vestigial. No-one could do the things he did and remain a human. The black eyes of the mask weren’t human eyes, they were the eyes of a monster. It was more his face that whatever human skin was underneath it.

At least the hostages got away, the Red Hood thinks as he drifts back into consciousness.

It was a trap, damn it, it was a trap and curse his predictable heart for falling for it. He knew the risks and he still dove in anyway. The last thing he remembered was getting a face full of what are now familiar knuckles. His bruises ache and as he opens his eyes he has to close them again against the bright white glare. The blow to the head makes the lights physically painful but it means one thing; he wasn’t lucky enough to be back in Arkham. Jeremiah was a saint, he knew to keep the lights down after a fight.

No, he wasn’t fortunate enough to drag himself broken and bleeding back into his rooms in the Arkham Manor basement like he had after so many fights. He was here, in a place that shone with harsh, sterile light that was far too familiar by now.

“Don’t bother faking, I know you’re awake.” Owlman says and smiles. That smile meant one thing only; his future would be pain. The Red Hood was used to the pain by now.

Owlman was going to torture him.

It happened, not always, but too many times. He couldn’t always escape; when it came down to the wire he'd let himself get captured if it meant others could escape. Owlman never tried to kill him, not while he could still _suffer._ There were times his friends managed to rescue him. There were times he was underestimated enough to make an escape. There were also times, far too many times, when the Owl merely turned him loose on the streets, gibbering and mad from the pain until Gotham pieced him back together and raised him back from the shadows. Owlman had made him think 2+2=5 for _months_ , just because he could. Bastard.

“Disarm him.” Owlman orders his latest Talon.

The Red Hood hasn’t seen this one before.

He has seen far too many Talons over the years. Every time he saw a new one he hoped it was because the previous one escaped rather than died. It was a thin hope. The Owl had taken to displaying their bodies in public places, letting the city know he was displeased. After a few days the body would disappear, everyone was too afraid of the Owlman to touch them so he must be doing something with them afterwards.

This Talon is new and desperate to please, showing more haste than caution when it came to disarming the Red Hood’s various devices. The Red Hood looks into the Owl's empty black eyes as his jacket with its kevlar weave is roughly pulled from his shoulders and dumped on the ground. A razor-edged card still in the holster is triggered and it slices open the Talon's hand as it lodges in the floor. The Red Hood winces sympathetically. The Talon swears, moving to stem the flow of blood. It will take some stitches but at least the boy hasn’t lost a finger.

Owlman watches impassively, even as spots of red drip onto the marble floor. The Talon reaches for the mask next.

“He’s never going to love you.” The Red Hood softly tells him. Petty but true, he doesn’t think the Owl was capable of love, especially not for a child.

The Talon strikes him in the gut. It is a solid impact, hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Shut your mouth!” He orders in a snarl.

In three steps Owlman is standing right in front of him. He grabs the injured Talon by the throat and lifts them into the air.

“First you injure yourself through sheer stupidity, then you allow him to anger you.” Owlman says as the boy struggles and gasps for breath. He tightens his grip. “Finally, you _touch what is mine._ ”

“Let him go!” The Red Hood snarls. “He’s a child, you heartless monster!”

The Red Hood struggles, his arms are cuffed behind his back and the chain attaching them to the floor clinks as it pulls tight. He snarls and twists his shoulders to try and pop free of the cuffs. They hold, keeping him barely a foot away from the choking child.

“Stop! Stop, you're killing him!” The Red Hood yells.

The black lensed eyes of the Owl don’t leave his eyes as something cracks under his fingers.

“You bastard!” The Red Hood sobs. “You complete and utter bastard! He didn’t do anything, he’s just a boy! How could you do this to him?!”

Owlman doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even look at the boy as he chokes him to death. The Red Hood swears and sobs and pleads but the Owl knows no mercy. The black eyes of the Owl mask don’t leave the Red Hood’s face.

The boy’s face turns red, then purple as a bruise. A terrible empty gurgle echoes from his throat. His fingers claw at the hand holding him, at first desperately, then growing weaker and weaker until his arms drop weak and lifeless to his sides. Owlman tightens his grip further and there is an organic snap of breaking bones. He drops the corpse. It falls to the marble in front of the Red Hood with blank black eyes.

The Red Hood sobs on his knees with the ugly sound echoing in his helmet. The Owl watches him, something of a curious tilt to his head, as if he couldn’t understand why someone would cry over a dead Talon. He watches the Red Hood cry for a few minutes, seemingly enjoying the sight, before he leaves the corpse and heads out of the sight of the Red Hood. There is a small tinkling sound, like the ringing of a delicate bell.

“I’m sorry.” The Red Hood whispers to the corpse of the former Talon. “I'm sorry I couldn’t save you.”

The body is entirely still with its dead eyes locked in their last expression of fear and disbelief.

A door opens somewhere behind the Red Hood.

“You rang?” A familiar voice says.

The Red Hood strains against the cuffs again. The chain clinks and holds fast. He growls, struggling to be menacing while half-undressed and chained to the ground.

“Take the failure for processing and procure me a fresh one.” Owlman orders. “And leave orders I am not to be disturbed.”

“Very well Sir.” The Butler says and grabs the body by the ankles. As if it was a sack of garbage he drags it across the floor towards the door.

“What was his name?” The Red Hood asks.

The Butler doesn’t give him as much as a passing glance. He never did.

“What was his name?!” The Red Hood demands louder.

A door slams shut and there is nothing to mark the boy had ever been there but a bloody smear on the marble. The Red Hood turns back towards his captor.

“Tell me!” He demands of the Owl.

An armored knee is driven into his stomach. The Red Hood chokes and tastes bile. He forces the nausea down before he vomits in the helmet. As he gasps for breath as Owlman kneels to be at eye level with him.

“He didn’t matter.” The Owl says.

“Every life matters you callous, _inhuman_ piece of…” A blow to the solar plexus knocks the words out of him.

“Hush.” Owlman says as the Red Hood gasps for breath. “I’m not in the mood for this argument again.”

Without ceremony Owlman pulls off the hood, leaving the Red Hood blinking in the sudden burst of harsh white light. He glares best he could while chained to the floor and once again thinks it takes a special kind of psycho to put marble flooring in your torture chamber. Internally he is braced for the pain he knows is forthcoming. He struggles not to shiver with only a shirt on in the chilly cell.

Owlman smiles. If a cat could smile when it had a mouse under its paw it would smile like that. It was a smile with no real humor in it, no human warmth, just a vicious, sadistic glee in knowing he was about to inflict pain on something that couldn’t fight back.

Damn him, the Red Hood _couldn’t_ fight back either. The cuffs were solid and the chain links were at least three inches thick.

He could _maybe_ pick them with the picks he had in the lining of his pant cuffs, if he was left unobserved for ten minutes. His boots with their own specialized tools have already been taken from him. Without them the most he could do right now was _maybe_ kick Owlman before the Owl broke his legs. His socks smelt bad but nowhere near bad enough to knock out his captor long enough for him to escape. So, it would be pain, pain he was used to, but none the more pleasant because of it. All that remained was to see what twisted thing Owlman had in mind to make him smile like that. Whatever it was it was bound to be terrible.

The Red Hood glares up at him, putting as much hatred into his acid green eyes as he can. The black eyes of the mask are as dead of human feeling as those of the boy he had just killed had been.

“Well?” The Red Hood growls. “You might as well get on with it.”

The Owl grabs his chin, forcing it upward as he tilts his own head to the side, observing him in a curiously bird-like way. His thumb traces the thin line of a scar he has made as if proud of it.

“Awfully eager of you.” He notes and god, how the Red Hood hated how utterly emotionless his voice could be, as bleached of all feeling as the Red Hood’s skin was of color.

“I know you too well to think you’ve kept me here for a cup of coffee and a friendly chat.” The Red Hood hisses between bared teeth. He matches Owlman’s smile with one of his own, more a snarl, defiant and hateful. “You’re becoming awfully _predictable_ as of late.”

Owlman’s smile grows a fraction.

“Is that why you walked into my trap?” He asks and the Red Hood’s eyes flash away from him for a fraction of a second. The Owl’s voice drops into a mockery, like one talking to a very young child. “Or did you just miss our play time?”

“I _hate_ you!” The Red hood spits.

Owlman laughs. The Red Hood tries to kick him and the Owl grabs his foot and forces it down.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” The Red Hood screeches, aware he sounds like a child throwing a tantrum and not caring. He thrashes in his chains, using the motion to disguise his checks on the strength and construction of his bindings.

Owlman only allows it for a few moments before grabbing him and holding him still.

“Hush.” He orders.

The Red Hood’s response is to scream as loudly as he can, aiming for the most grating, irritating sound possible. It’s petty but the Owl brings it out in him. Anything he can do, any tiny little thing he can do to harm his captor he will, knowing it adds up to so little in the end. He knows this and the Owl knows this too.

Owlman allows him to finish and draw breath for another scream before grabbing him by the throat.

“Enough.” He orders.

The Red Hood tries to bite his hand. Owlman sighs.

“What am I going to do with you?” He asks as if the Red Hood was a puppy that needed to be housebroken, rather than a vigilante crime-fighter that nearly got away with defying him.

The Red Hood growls then feels bad for indulging the Owl when the Owl chuckles. This is probably the longest civil conversation he’s ever had with the killer, even if Owlman wasn’t bothering to make the lie convincing. They both knew this was just the Owl’s way of drawing out the moment of anticipation before the torture, it was practically foreplay for him.

“Kill me.” The Red Hood hisses, half a jibe and half meaning it. He is so tired, so very tired of all of this. Tired of the pain. Tired of the monster in front of him that made his nightmares bleed into the waking world.

“Never.” Owlman replies and makes the word terrifying.

“I have _nothing left!_ ” The Red Hood’s eyes shine with his pain. “You’ve taken _everything_ from me but my life!”

“Yes.” The Owl says and it is less a confession than a simple statement of fact but damn him, the old bird sounds proud of himself.

The Red Hood draws himself up, looking as strong as he can while chained to the floor.

“There’s nothing left for you to do to me.” He declares with his face as icy and proud as a prince of hell. “So you might as well get it over with.”

Owlman kisses him.

The Red Hood isn’t expecting it, by the time he thinks to bite the Owl's tongue one gloved hand is tightly gripping his jaw to keep it open. It’s a good kiss, better than the Red Hood thought possible and utterly unlike Owlman. It wasn’t _forceful,_ it was tender. The Owl's tongue curls around his own, unfussed by the lack of response, as it moves hot and slick and agile. The hairs on the back of the Red Hood's neck stand on end. A deep, primal urge to kiss back thuds in his chest for a heartbeat, then the teasing tongue is drawn back.

The Red Hood stares blankly back at Owlman. The Owl was an excellent kisser and he had no idea what to do with this information.

“Wh...?” The Red Hood can’t even finish the question.

Owlman chuckles and the tip of his tongue glides across his lips.

“Because someone had to break the tension between us. Because I want you.” The Owl’s voice drops into the kind of growl that went straight to the groin without engaging the brain. “ _Because I can.”_

Owlman kisses him again, slower this time, allowing the sensation to linger and build. He is pressing close to his captive, closer than he has before. This time when the kiss breaks there is no doubt on the face of the Red Hood of what has just happened and what was _going_ to happen whether he liked it or not.

The chain clinks as he tries to move his hands. Owlman's other hand sweeps through the hair chemically dyed an unnatural green, after the chemicals in his hair dye reacted with the chemicals the Red Hood had nearly been drowned in. He is sitting close enough for the Red Hood to feel his breath.

“Red, should I call you Red or would you prefer Jack?” Owlman asks.

The Red Hood doesn’t remember his own name, or rather he remembered too many names, sometimes without being able to tell what was real and what was imagined. Jack Napier had been a promising lead. He never should have let the Owl find out about it. All evidence of Jack Napier’s existence had gone up in a literal cloud of smoke. Nearly 40 people died along with the Red Hood’s hope he might discover who he had been before Owlman twisted him into this.

“Fuck you!” The Red Hood hisses.

“Is that an invitation?” The Owl smiles. His fingers comb through the Red Hood’s hair.

The Red Hood tries to pull away and the Owlman’s fingers tighten in their grip.

“Ah, ah, ah, I want to see your eyes.” The Owl tells him.

Owlman leans in for a third kiss and this time the Red Hood tries to fight him off. The chain links chimes as the Owl pins him with his greater body weight. The kiss stays slow and sensual, stimulating waves of deliberate pleasure even though the Red Hood does everything he can to deny it.

Damn him to seven hells and back, physically at least Owlman _was_ his type. There was a beautiful body under that armor and everyone knew it. It was just a pity it happened to be possessed by such a monster but, well, his cock didn’t care.

Already that damn skillful tongue was pulling a reaction from him. Parts he hadn’t thought about in months were beginning to stir. The Red Hood tries to calm them, to sink into a meditative state of self-control, but the Owl's tongue keeps breaking his concentration. The Red Hood had never thought of a tongue as a torture weapon before but Owlman uses his with surgical precision. After what feels like an eternity the kiss finally breaks and the Red Hood gasps for air. He manages a brief glare before the Owl's attention turns to his neck and damn him, how did he know that little spot was the one to make him groan?

The Red Hood bites off the sound before it can escape, digging his teeth hard into his lip and nearly drawing blood. The Owl smirks and he can _feel_ the smirk against his skin, before going back to teasing the skin with tongue and teeth in a way that the Red Hood didn’t know how to resist. He fights to not groan. The Owl plants a mocking kiss to his neck.

“Does it hurt?” Owlman asks softly as his fingers ghost over the Red Hood's chemically bleached skin.

“...Always.” The Red Hood replies equally softly and the Owl smiles.

“You’re beautiful you know.” Owlman’s husky voice whispers in his ear.

The Red Hood’s snort of disbelief is a habit.

“I mean it.” The gloved finger follows the marks of scars, only the scars _he,_ the Owl, had personally made, down the pale length of the Red Hood’s exposed neck. The Red Hood shivers as the fingertips reach the collar of his shirt. “You wear every scar so perfectly.”

“You gave me most of them.” The Red Hood protests weakly, not being able to put much venom into it when he’s struggling not to moan.

“I know.” Owlman's voice is proud and smug and _happy_ in ways that the Red Hood can’t process. The Red Hood feels the warmth of the Owl’s breath tickle his ear. “ _You’re covered in my marks_.”

The dark possessiveness in that husky voice sends a nearly electric shiver of delight and disgust coursing down the Red Hood’s spine. What was wrong with him that this turned him on?

“I-I’m not your… _property._ ” The Red Hood manages to gasp out in a whimper, hating how pathetic the denial sounds.

Owlman’s tongue glides across the white skin, hot and slick and teasing. The Red Hood’s stomach turns as the first shirt button is undone and he attempts one desperate but futile full body thrash. The Owl smirks and holds him still as he slowly undoes all the buttons while his tongue curls around the Red Hood’s like a python around its prey.

“You are.” He whispers and sounds amused. “Ever since I made you you’ve been mine.”

“You…tried to kill me.” The Red Hood protests and has to bite down hard on his lip to stop a moan breaking free as the Owl bites his ear.

“I don’t _try_ to kill, Red.” Owlman croons and damn, that word is ruined for him forever, The Red Hood is never going to hear it without thinking of the Owl’s clever tongue and teasing fingers. “If I _really_ wanted you dead you would be, but you are so much more _fun_ alive.”

Owlman’s gloved hand dips under his shirt and traces along the bow of the skinny ribcage. The Red Hood’s nipples are stiff because it’s _cold_ with only a shirt on but he feels guilty anyway when the Owl touches them.

“Has your whore in the syndicate finally closed her legs to you?” The Red Hood tries to put venom into it but the Owl squeezes at the wrong time and his voice breaks halfway through the sentence.

“No.” Owlman sounds amused at the thought.

“T-Then why m-me…?” The Red Hood’s voice stutters.

“I already said.” For the first time displeasure enters the Owl’s voice. “ _I want you._ ” He breathes. “So I’m going to break you.” Owlman whispers in his ear in a voice that could launch a thousand wet dreams. “I’m going to condition you to get hard every time you see me. You won’t be able to jerk off without picturing _my_ hand on your cock.”

“Never!” The Red Hood hisses and the Owl's fingers _twist_ in a way that drags a groan from his throat.

“You will.” Owlman states with a terrible, implacable certainty. “I'm going to enjoy it.”

His hand dips below the waistline and the Red Hood realizes despite his greater judgement he was hard. The Owl gives it a squeeze and a half-strangled moan leaves the Red Hood’s mouth.

“Look at you, getting hard so quickly for the man who murdered your family.” Owlman grins. “Am I really that sexy or is this your fetish?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” The Red Hood hisses. He tries to thrash free again and that is a mistake because it drags the Owl's hand up his length and he chokes.

Owlman presses a brief chaste kiss to the captive’s neck.

“Maybe next time I’ll let you suck my cock.” He offers.

“You put it anywhere near my mouth and I’ll bite it off!” The Red Hood hisses, forgetting his situation for a moment.

Owlman squeezes, hard. The Red Hood yelps in pain.

“That’s not an option.” The Owl tells him and pops open the buttons of his pants.

The Red Hood hisses as his cock springs free, straining at the wine-red silk of his boxers. Owlman drags a fingertip up its length and the Red Hood shudders.

“You’re already leaking.” The Owl notes and the Red Hood bites his lip. He takes a deep breath and tries to will his arousal to fade. The Owl frowns and mashes their mouths together in a passionate kiss.

The Red Hood’s concentration shatters and he yelps around the teasing tongue, then Owlman’s glove slips under his boxers and wraps around his cock, and the Red Hood discovers he has the worst possible fetish for it. He moans into Owlman's mouth and the Owl smirks into the kiss, his tongue curling in hot lines of fire that dares the Red Hood to kiss back. One hand strokes possessive circles on the Red Hood’s chest, occasionally lavishing attention on a nipple to send sparks down the Red Hood’s spine. The other gloved hand is wrapped firmly around the Red Hood’s leaking cock, pumping it in a slow steady rhythm that makes it swell harder in his grip.

The Red Hood realizes there is no hand holding his jaw open but it is taking all his effort not to moan into the kiss. The Owl calls fire into his chilly skin with every calculated _perfect_ touch.

It would be easier if Owlman was forceful, if he had been brutal, if he had been trying to cause pain for his own pleasure this could have been just another torment to add to the pile. The Red Hood shudders. This…wasn’t something he knew how to deal with. Long neglected parts of his body were making demands that disgusted his brain. How long had it been since someone had touched him like this, soft, tender, almost _lovingly?_

 _Just give in,_ his body below the belt says, _he’s not going to stop no matter what you do. You might as well enjoy it while you have the chance._

The Owl breaks the kiss to lavish attention on the Red Hood’s neck, finding every spot on his neck that he loves being touched and leaving bruises there. The Red Hood’s body arches into the touch, he bites down hard enough to draw blood to stop the needy whimper leaving his mouth.

“Moan for me Red.” Owlman orders in a husky whisper. “I want to hear your pretty voice when I make you cum.”

“Go to hell.” The Red Hood groans.

The Owl smirks and does something with his hand that draws a strangled moan from the Red Hood’s throat. The Red Hood squirms, his back arching and breaths stuttering as precum slicks his shaft. He doesn’t know how much longer he can last.

Owlman drags the shirt from his shoulders so he can spread marks down across them, the fingers of one hand claws down the Red Hood’s back and makes the muscles tense. He arches against the Owl's chest and the pants and boxers both are pulled away and dropped. The Red Hood doesn’t have the spare brain cells to remember his picks because one of the Owl's thighs is slipping between his legs and practically pulling him onto Owlman's lap. The room is cold but Owlman’s body seems warm and it is all he can do not to lean into it. The Owl's hand on his cock doesn’t miss a beat and the Red Hood can’t contain the shameful whimper that leaves his mouth. Every part of his body wants to give up and slip into the embrace. He wants to feel those strong arms wrapped around him and that hot, hard muscled body grinding against him.

“Do you know why I don’t kill you?” Owlman whispers into his ear. “You are _pathetic_ Red. Nothing I do to you can be worse than the humiliation you go through living everyday.” The Owl grins savagely. “ _You exist because your suffering is entertaining to me.”_ He whispers in a low, sultry tone seemingly disconnected from his cruel words.

“F-Fuck you.” The Red Hood groans, unable to hold back his voice any more. There is no venom in it, to his shame it sounds like a plea.

“You belong at my feet Red.” The Owl croons as he kisses along the Red Hood’s jawline, lavishing attention on the bruises he has left. “Now cum.”

The Red Hood holds out for six shameful seconds before spilling over the Owl's glove with a gasp. The Owl smirks with smug satisfaction and milks a few extra drops from the Red Hood while he shudders from the overstimulation.

“Good boy.” Owlman praises him and presses a chaste kiss to the Red Hood’s forehead.

He spreads his fingers and watches the strings of fluid gleam under the harsh lights.

“You haven’t been very sexually active recently, have you?” He notes. “These next few days may be a shock to your system.”

The Owl holds the glove up to the Red Hood’s lips as if expecting him to lick it clean. The Red Hood glares at him, even though the burn humiliation robs some venom from his stare. He keeps his lips pressed tightly together. Owlman laughs and wipes the cum off against his prisoner’s face.

“You'll get used to it.” He says with a smug grin.

“Bastard.” The Red Hood growls.

“My parents were assuredly married prior to my conception.” Owlman informs him.

“Sorry. Bitch.” The Red Hood sneers.

The Owl pauses for a moment but doesn’t move to strike him, or do anything else violent. The Red Hood would honestly prefer a beating at this point.

“I'll be back in a few hours.” Owlman tells him. “I have a new boy to pick out, a city to rule, and a few jobs to do.” He reaches out a hand and strokes it through the Red Hood’s hair. “Thank me and I’ll let you have a blanket.” He leans in close and his voice becomes more seductive. “Beg and I’ll let you sleep on my bed.”

“Die!” The Red Hood snarls and lunges forwards. The chain jolts and snaps taut.

Owlman nods as if expecting that answer and kicks the Red Hood's clothing into the corners of the room before he leaves. It is not until the door is shut and sealed that the Red Hood realizes that Owlman hadn’t as much as touched himself through the whole ordeal, he had been entirely focused on the Red Hood’s pleasure. Maybe the Owl was enough of a sadist to get off on suffering alone. It makes it worse somehow. The Red Hood knew how to cope with pain, pleasure was far less familiar to him.

Damn it, damn his stupid pathetic _human_ heart. Even now, after everything that happened, part of him still loved the Owl. Worse, it was grateful for the attention. A thousand clichéd scenarios had played out the theater of his mind, that maybe there was some part of the Owl that could be redeemed. There had been at least a hundred confusing wet dreams where sex and violence blended into a terminal sticky mess. Now he was finding out that at least some part of the Owl wanted him too, and whatever Owlman wanted he took without caring about another living thing, the bullying brute. It took a special kind of mind to be able to twist the population an entire city to your whims from the shadows and still chose to beat your enemies to death with your bare hands.

The Red Hood curls up on the marble, aware that there are cameras fixed on him, and trying to save body heat. He doesn’t let himself sob even though he desperately wants to. Showing any weakness in front of the Owl was like blood to a shark and he would be watching, oh he would be watching, to see how his mind games were affecting his prisoner.

Well, the Red Hood wasn’t Owlman's greatest enemy on looks alone. He stands and stretches, appearing unashamed at being naked, and gives the seemingly featureless walls a knowing look. With the accustomed grace of any performer warming up he goes through his usual escape routine. It had been years since any of his tricks had helped, Owlman could never be escaped the same way twice, but it put him in the proper mind-set which was emphatically _not_ whimpering in a broken heap on the floor. The chain twists but holds as he practices putting stress on it. Owlman is clearly confident in his equipment as no-one tries to stop him. As he tests the metal the Red Hood starts to think.

He has two options; the first is he fights the Owl every step of the way, maybe even dragging that burning anger out of him, and trusts that Owlman hadn’t lied about wanting to keep him alive. In time Owlman would slip up and let him escape, or the few friends he had left on the outside would manage to free him. Luthor had managed to evade death at the hands of the Metropolis Cult of the Sun God, after a few more days of rebuilding he _might_ mount a rescue, if he had the resources.

The second option was to die. No, die was too melodramatic. He could hibernate, hide all of his personality under a protective layer and let his body submit to the Owl. That was dangerous, there would be no telling if or when he would be able to surface again. The idea of Owlman having full control over him made him shudder. The Owl did enough damage with his child soldiers; the Red Hood doesn’t want to find his body had become one of them. If all the Owl did want was sex, then maybe it wouldn’t be the biggest risk but Owlman had made it clear this wasn’t about his shallow gratification, why give his prisoner a handjob if that was the case? The Owl wanted to _break_ him.

The Red Hood twists and angles the chain and dislocates both shoulders. It hurts but he hadn’t been lying to the Owl; the chemical kiss that entwined their fates never stopped hurting. The fire in his shoulders was swallowed almost entirely by the larger blaze that was his existence. The Red Hood couldn’t remember what it was like to not be in pain. The cuffs shift but not enough for him to escape them without tearing off both arms. With a grunt the Red Hood relocates them.

Escape or Rescue then, escape or rescue. He would endure, he would bide his time and when the moment was right he would be free and this terrible dance he and the Owl were locked into would begin anew. He just had to wait.


	2. Anger

It takes three weeks, nearly a month, before the Red Hood accepts rescue isn’t coming.

His captor is relentless, the constant bright lights are wreaking havoc with his sense of time, but he’s sure that not a day passes without the Owl pulling an orgasm from him. Damn him, the Red Hood _was_ being conditioned, no matter how hard he was focusing on denying Owlman all he had to do was growl ‘Red’ in that special tone of his and the Red Hood’s cock would perk up. The damn Owl had not only put together an escape proof cell, he was hell-bent on keeping his prisoner from injuring himself too. Whenever the Red Hood tried the Owl always seemed to be waiting just outside to ‘calm him down' with his hands and tongue and make him feel guilty for his escape attempt.

The Red Hood felt like a toy being played with then carefully put away for another day. It was driving him nuts and he had never had the firmest grip on sanity in the first place. The world was already starting to distort around him. He was starting to doubt there was a world outside of this room, maybe it had all just been another of the dreams that tormented him in his sleep. In his dreams he was free, every time he opened his eyes to find he was still in the cell it broke him a bit more inside.

He was breaking, fighting every step of the way, but still breaking. All that was left was to break on his own terms.

The Red Hood curls shivering under the lone blanket the Owl allowed him. He had broken and asked for it, he couldn’t escape if he was sick from the cold. Even that small concession had hurt and the Owl had _grinned_ at him.

It hurt to know what he was being reduced to. If he was going to escape he would have to be prepared to be Owlman’s plaything indeterminately. The Red Hood’s sense of self has been wounded, he feels it slip away to heal and the part of him that still loved his tormentor take its place.

The Red Hood’s eyes slide close. The part of him that cared about escaping fades from view, as if he was putting a mask on over his personality.

He snaps.

Some time passes before the door to the torture chamber opens. His eyes slide open as he raises his head. They are the blank, glassy, staring eyes of someone who has been broken.

The boots of the Owl sound on the marble as in three steps Owlman is at his side.

“Hello Red.” He says fondly. “How is my favorite boy doing today?”

He reaches out one gloved hand and cups the Red Hood’s cheek. The Red Hood nuzzles into the touch. It’s warm.

The Owl breathes out a soft, nearly reverent sigh as the Red Hood looks up at him with the worshiping eyes of the broken.

“Please...” His voice cracks. “I need you...”

Owlman moves forwards quickly and for a moment fear sparks in the Red Hood, before strong arms are folding around his shoulders in a warm, _safe_ , embrace. The Red Hood sobs from the depths of his heart as the Owl comforts him and he accepts it. The part of the Red Hood that was still thinking is disgusted to see he is clinging to the Owl like a shipwreck survivor clings to debris.

“There, there.” Owlman whispers as his fingers stroke through the Red Hood’s hair. “I'm here now.”

There is a complicated motion that the Red Hood memorizes in its entirety and he is free! The chains hiss as they fall from him, leaving only the red marks around his wrists to show where he had been bound. It takes a serious effort not to show his joy as the trembling figure of the Red Hood curls his arms hungrily around Owlman.

The Owl returns the embrace, muttering soothing nonsense under his breath and the part of the Red Hood that was the Red Hood has a grudging respect for the technique. No wonder his child soldiers were so loyal, he can act human remarkably well when he wants to. He could almost make you believe he really cared. Smooth bastard.

The thinking part of the Red Hood watches from above, seemingly detached from the pale and shivering thing that found comfort in the arms of the Owl. It was humiliating but it was the only way he was going to get out of this damn room. The part of him that wanted Owlman to hold him had been growing stronger. Indulging it rather than fighting it left him with the energy spare to observe at the highest level. He was going to need it.

The Owl holds him close and kisses away his tears until the body of the Red Hood is happily curled in his arms. It is entirely at ease with the Owl’s close presence.

“There's a good boy.” Owlman mutters as he strokes the Red Hood’s hair.

‘ _I'm not a dog.’_ The Red Hood tells him mentally, aware that he can’t say it out loud without jeopardizing his plan.

The Red Hood’s body nestles closer into the Owl's arms. Owlman places a chaste kiss on the top of the Red Hood’s head.

“I'm proud of you Red.” He says softly. “You’re being such a good boy. What is it you want from me?”

The Red Hood’s body looks up at him with glazed and loving eyes.

“P-please...” It begs timidly. “You said if I asked I could…I could...please take me to your bed?”

“Of course.” The Owl tells him and a look of relief passes over the Red Hood’s face. The Owl tilts his head up and traces a finger across the edge of the Red Hood’s bottom lip. The Red Hood’s face reflects nothing but obedient adoration.

With seemingly no effort Owlman picks him up in a bridal carry. The Red Hood wasn’t a heavyweight at the best of times and his captor had him on a borderline starvation diet of nutrient water. The Red Hood’s body settles into the Owl's arms while the Red Hood’s mind prepares to observe like his life depended on it. It probably does.

The Red Hood counts two corridors before they reach the bedroom, slightly hampered by the fact he can’t look like he is observing closely. The house is old money and he notes every detail down to the number of nails in the floorboards before he is being dropped on his back on a four-poster bed.

The softness and warmth of the blankets nearly makes him cry after so long on the cold, hard, marble floors. Owlman orders him to stay with a small kiss on the forehead and, to the Red Hood’s surprise, he starts to strip.

The Red Hood’s body is frozen in silent reverence while even the Red Hood’s mind is transfixed by the sight. He's never seen what the Owl looks like under the armor but he is slowly and deliberately removing it. Neither part of the Red Hood can look away. The part of him that thought wonders what step of Owlman’s plan would require him to be so vulnerable, exposing himself in front of an enemy and wondered how far he was going to go. The part of him that loved the Owl merely drooled over the reveal of his beautiful body. Gods he _was_ beautiful, neither part of him would deny it. The ancient Greeks would weep at the sight of him because no sculptor could capture that raw, masculine perfection. The Red Hood finds himself mapping the scars stretched across the muscles that he had made and stops himself. It frightens him that any part of him was the same as Owlman.

The thinking part of the Red Hood finds itself entranced as the ungloved hands sweep down past the bare chest and undoes some subtle claps in his belt. The Owl smiles, feeling the heat of his captive audience’s eyes on him as he slips off his pants. He is half hard already and the sight takes the Red Hood’s breath away. Even the thinking part feels a shiver at the proof that the Owl wasn’t entirely unaffected by the things he had put the Red Hood through. The thought that Owlman genuinely desired him was both sickening and thrilling at the same time.

Nothing could tear his eyes away from the Owl as the dark fabric slips down each muscled thigh. Someone could have opened a window and beckoned him to freedom and he wouldn’t have noticed. His world became nothing but Owlman taking off his armor _for him._ It was a hot little thought that his body sends to his brain. The Red Hood struggles not to groan. It was messed up that he actually enjoyed this, part of him must be as fucked up as the Owl was. Part of him can’t pretend it’s for reasons of tactics that he wants to see the face under the cowl.

Owlman seems to be savoring the moment and the Red Hood’s attention as he leaves the cowl for last. It is pulled free inch by inch and oh, the Owl's hair is dark and it looks incredibly soft.

The Red Hood realizes his hand has subconsciously raised towards it. He lowers it and the Owl turns towards him. There is a small, dark domino mask covering his eyes. He shouldn’t find that as sexy as he does. The Owl smiles a small smug smile as he takes a step towards the bed.

He grabs the hand and holds it to his cheek. The Red Hood’s body looks up at him as if disbelieving it is allowed to touch him. Owlman kisses his fingertips. There is a lurch of feeling in his chest, something dark and violent and jealous, and it comes from the thinking part. He wants to break that smug smile, he wants to be in control, he wants the Owl squirming and helpless underneath him, gasping and pleading for mercy. It is very difficult to keep that venom from showing on his face but Owlman thankfully distracts him by climbing onto the bed and drawing the blankets over them. A warm comforting darkness falls around him as the Owl looms over him with barely an inch separating their lips. The blankets are warm but somehow the body of Owlman inches from his own is warmer. It sends heat into his bones.

Owlman kisses him and the body of the Red Hood tentatively kisses back and its like opening a floodgate of lust. The Owl's tongue ravishes his mouth and the Red Hood’s body struggles to meet it. He had been kissed passionately before by people who loved him and who he loved back. He had never been kissed by someone who seemed to be trying to drown him in the sensation of it. His brain fizzled and short circuited, he had to fight for conscious thought like a drowning swimmer fights for air. He doesn’t know when he moved his hands but oh, the Owl's hair was as soft as it looked as he buries his fingers in it to try and anchor himself against the waves of sensation that was Owlman’s kiss.

When it finally breaks the Red Hood gasps for air with his lungs burning, and the Owl smiles.

“You are so beautiful.” He says as he strokes a hand down one pale cheek and runs a finger across one swelling spit-shined lip.

The thinking part of the Red Hood can’t help but feel this is adding insult to injury, literally. He hadn’t been much of a looker before the accident, from what shattered memories remained he had been the kind of mousy unobtrusive person you wouldn’t spare a second glance at, until the chemical bath had bleached his skin and dyed his hair. He was a garish mockery of a man, a parody of a person, and the fact that Owlman sounded so _genuine_ in his praise made this worse somehow, as if his own self-loathing was being compounded by the Owl's approval.

Owlman bites his neck and makes him gasp as he carefully darkens the marks he had left there since the first day. He hasn’t let those first bruises fade as a reminder of the Red Hood’s humiliation. The Red Hood’s body gasps.

“Owl...” The Red Hood whimpers and is cut off by Owlman resting a finger over his lips.

“Thomas.” The Owl says softly. “My name is Thomas.”

“Thomas...” The Red Hood’s body repeats in a hungry whisper. It draws in a shuddering breath and stares back with desperately pleading eyes. “Jack?” It asks.

“Jack.” Owlman agrees and kisses him softly.

“Thomas.” The Red Hood breathes and curls his arm around Owlman’s shoulders. “Tho _mas_.” It is a plea and a prayer in two syllables.

“ _Jack_.” The Owl breathes in that special tone of his and rolls his hips forwards. The Red Hood nearly dies in the French sense.

A pathetic animal keening leaves his mouth and his fingers tighten around the Owl’s shoulders, leaving fine trails of red scrapped across the skin as his nails nearly draw blood. The Owl chuckles and _touches_ him. Owlman’s fingers seem to leave trails of fire against his skin as he strokes him softly, lovingly, like he hadn’t been touched in years _._ The fingers drag across his skin in slow spirals, exploring every inch of pale skin in a way that makes him pant as the fire builds inside of him. There is a pattern to it, stoking the fire as the hands trail down only to sweep to the less sensitive areas and bank the flames for long enough to start again. The Red Hood groans. He is desperate to be burned up in those flames but at the same time is completely unable to move. The Owl smiles and leans in close enough for his hot breath to tease.

“ _Thomas._ ” The Red Hood’s body begs.

The Red Hood’s mind wonders if only his libido was this stupid or if everyone else was just better at hiding it. He wonders what he could do about Thomas, a human name stuck to Owlman as easily as rocks stick to clouds, to avoid wondering how it would feel to have the Owl’s hot, hard cock buried inside him.

Owlman could never be a Tom or a Tommy except as a jibe. It felt wrong to even think about, and there’s no scenario he can think of where he could use it against the Owl. Maybe with digging he could find a civilian identity, then what? It would be like claiming Count Dracula was Steve from Accounting. He wasn’t sure the Owl even _was_ human anymore.

A God, his body slavishly suggests. A God, the thinking part agrees, but one of those alien ones from the dawn of time that becomes less and less convincing as a human the longer you look at it. He can picture his Owl in the primordial night stalking the tribes of what would become Man and teaching them to fear the dark. The Red Hood realizes he just thought of Owlman as _his_ Owl and shudders.

Owlman’s tongue traces the edge of the Red Hood’s ear.

“Say you’re mine.” He orders and part of the Red Hood melts. It struggles to form words through the warm haze of sensation that’s paralyzing its vocal chords. The Owl seems to relish that difficulty, teasing him further to make it harder to speak instead of moan.

“I’m yours.” It is barely a whisper from quivering lips, but when Owlman’s body presses against his and his teeth sink into that perfect spot on the Red Hood’s neck the next sound is a scream on the red wavering edge between pleasure and pain. He was dying, he was dying in the most perfectly agonizing way possible because his body loved the Owl so much it _hurt._

Owlman finally, _finally_ rewards him by dragging his fingers down to the parts of him that ached to be touched. The Red Hood’s body moans and spreads its legs further, already so painfully hard his mind was ashamed of it. The Owl’s fingertip touches the head of his weeping cock and drags a bead of precum down his length. The Red Hood’s body shudders with desperate desire as the Owl’s finger trails lower and circles his entrance. The Red Hood forgets how to breathe for a second.

In nearly a month’s worth of tortures Owlman had never penetrated him.

The Owl had delighted in teasing him of course, but whatever pleasure he pulled from the Red Hood’s suffering it was purely cerebral. The Red Hood had never felt Owlman inside him. It would have been easier to cope with the Owl using him as a toy for his own selfish pleasure, but Owlman never did. The sadist. Anticipation of it hurt more than the act would. Now the Owl was practically asking permission. The Red Hood’s body wants it, he wants it bad, and so does the thinking part but for a different reason. He wants to feel the Owl come undone because of him, in him, both at the same time.  He was desperate to see that smug in control look on Owlman’s face be wiped away, even if it was by pleasure.

The Owl shifts in the bed, grips something over the Red Hood’s head and there is the snap of a bottle of lube being opened. Oh, so he is going to be a _gentleman_ about this, the Red Hood’s mind thinks muzzily before it is silenced by the sight of Owlman squeezing a generous amount of lube onto his cock. An audible whimper leaves his lips as the Owl slicks himself up with one hand. The other cups his cheek. He can’t pretend any more that this isn’t everything he had fantasized about, which makes it feel as flimsy and unreal as a dream.

“You’ve been so good for me Jack.” He says and presses one lube slicked finger into him.

The Red Hood’s hips buck forwards and the Owl’s other hand grabs them and forces them to be still.

“Not yet.” He says encouragingly and kisses the Red Hood’s neck. The Red Hood groans as the finger moves and warmth grows inside him.

He’s doing this on purpose the magnificent _bastard,_ the thinking part of him howls. Warming lubricant, the _bed,_ the tender touching and the _names,_ he was playing up the contrast on purpose. When he was alone there was cold and nothing but the bright lights and the hated white walls that played on his chemically induced sensitivities like a bone saw to the cerebellum. When he submitted to the Owl there would be warmth and love and safe, sweet darkness. He’d planned this! This was all part of a damn _plan!_

Then the finger brushes his prostate and it doesn’t matter what the Owl’s plan is, lightning arcs up his spine.

“ _Please._ ” His body begs and feels a tender kiss be pressed to his neck.

“ _Soon._ ” Owlman breathes in and adds another finger.

The Red Hood moans and tentatively raises his shaking hands to the Owl’s shoulders. He feels the Owl smile against his neck.

“Good boy.” Owlman says encouragingly and his fingers move faster.

The Red Hood keens and clutches at his shoulders as the fire grows, always kept on the edge of the sensation he craves but never quite tipping over. The Owl is an adept tease, he plays the Red Hood’s responses like he’s composing a symphony. Waves of pleasure crest and break without satisfying until the Red Hood’s mind can barely hold back from biting Owlman just to find some release. His mask must have cracked a little because the Owl chuckles.

“Frustrated?” He asks and presses a tender kiss to the Red Hood’s lips. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

 _Fuck you!_ The Red Hood’s mind screams.

“Fuck me!” His body begs out loud and Owlman thrusts into him.

A scream is strangled by the Owl’s tongue plunging into his mouth and the Red Hood clings and kisses back. The thinking part fades or merges and all that’s left is the fire building between them. He can no longer deny that this is him and only him in this bed, getting everything he’s ever wanted but knew he would never, ever, have. Fuck it, if he’s here he might as well wring every drop of enjoyment he can out of this, if only to spite the Owl’s sadism.

His fingernails scratch trails of red across the Owl’s bare shoulders as he kisses back wholeheartedly. The Owl sets a pace that is gentle and tender and so unlike him that the Red Hood would scream if he wasn’t pretending to be broken. Instead he clings close to Owlman’s shoulders and lets a needy whimper leave his lips. He feels the pause and the small shiver of tensing muscles under his fingers as Owlman gasps. For a moment the Owl is shuddering still against him and the Red Hood wonders if his legendary self-control has finally broken.

“ _Thomas…”_ He whispers to try and tip the balance.

“… _Fuck._ ” Owlman groans in his ear. The Red Hood feels his hot breath against his ear. “Jack, you’re so good.”

He kisses the Red Hood’s neck. The Red Hood wraps his legs around the Owl’s waist. Owlman moans and it is a raw, uncontrolled sound.

“Jack, you’re going to make me...” The Owl can’t finish his sentence. He makes a noise partway between a grunt and a groan but keeps up the same steady pace.

God, the Red Hood can’t remember the last time someone has fucked him like they loved him. It’s warm and tender and comforting in a way that nearly makes him cry. It had been an eternity since someone had held him like how he looked wasn’t something to overlook because he was a good person at heart. Like he wasn’t a freak.

The heat grows between them, fire fills his skin and the Red Hood doesn’t try to hold back his moans as the Owl hits the sweet spot inside of him. In return he gets unchecked sounds of animal lust from the one who was always planning something, grunts and groans mixed with soft swears and whispers of his name. It excited him to know that he was the one making the Owl come undone. He can’t see it but he can hear it in every pant of breath hot against his ear and feel it in the tense of Owlman's back muscles under his fingers.

Owlman wraps a hand around his weeping erection and pumps it in time to his thrusts and the Red Hood can’t hold out any longer. A choked gasp is all the warning he can give before the fire consumes him and he is cumming in the Owl's hand. A few hard thrusts later and the Owl's hips stop moving, as if he had been waiting for the Red Hood before allowing himself to orgasm. Owlman’s hot breath tickles his ear as they both catch their breath. The sound of the Owl's breathing grows quieter until he is fully composed enough to raise himself up and pull out. The Red Hood tries not to make a sound at the sudden feeling of emptiness, even as he feels a dribble of semen start to run down his thigh as an accompaniment to the puddle he’s made on his stomach.

The Owl rolls over onto his back next to the Red Hood and pulls him into a one-handed hug. The Red Hood’s head rests on his chest with one leg draped over Owlman’s thigh. The Owl's head turns towards him with eyes unreadable behind the mask.

“I....” The Red Hood croaks and the sentence dies in his throat as he realizes the words lining up on his lips are _‘I love you.’_

The Owl holds him close.

“I love you.” He whispers.

He's lying, _god_ , he has to be lying. He can’t possibly mean it.

The post-orgasmic high buzzes through the Red Hood, leaving him feeling boneless and unable to move but very, very happy. He resists the urge to nap, with one hand on the Owl's chest he monitors his heartbeat. Within ten minutes the Owl appears to be comfortably asleep. Only then does the Red Hood dare to open his eyes, drop his docile mask and closely observe the room. Compared to his cell there is a cornucopia of tools he can use to make his escape.

Freedom beckons from the window, large enough to leap through with nothing but promising darkness beyond. He could break through, Owlman would set the dogs on him though. There were four of them and they were the best proof the Red Hood had seen that hellhounds are real. The Red Hood called them all Ace because you got four Aces in a pack, ba-dum-tsh. He had more than enough experience going hand to hand with all four, as the scars on his arms and legs would testify. First, the window. A brass lamp on the bedside table looks heavy enough to shatter it but can he move closer to it without waking the Owl?

Owlman’s chest moves strangely under his fingers. He is laughinging.

“That’s the Red I know.” He says fondly and a chill runs down the Red Hood’s spine as he realizes the Owl had only been pretending to be asleep. “Already planning your escape.” In response to the unspoken question he tilts the Red Hood’s head to face him with a thumb under the chin. “Did you really think playing dumb would fool me?” He says in a voice soft with menace.

“You knew this whole time? Then why did you...?” The Red Hood asks.

The Owl smiles and it is a smile that makes the Red Hood’s heart tremble.

“Because you _asked_ me to.” He replies in his low, seductive whisper. “Deep down there’s a real part of you that wants me and you can’t deny that anymore. You _begged_ me to fuck you. _You_ begged _me._ ”

He kisses the Red Hood’s cheek. The Red Hood knees him in the crotch as hard as he can and leaps for the window.

The Owl’s arm catches him across the back before he can reach it. The Red Hood’s outstretched fingers snag a cord and he manages to use the alarm clock like a small flail to clock the Owl upside the head. The Owl twists as he falls, blankets shift and the two of them tumbling out of the bed, the Red Hood scrambling for anything he can use as a weapon in the fight and the Owl fighting for a position where he can pin the Red Hood. Maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t been recently kicked in the crotch, but the Red Hood gets the upper hand in the ensuing struggle. In the chaotic tangle of limbs he manages to pull the rug from under the Owl by literally tugging a corner of the fallen blankets from under his feet. The Owl goes over backwards and the Red Hood follows through.

Owlman’s head hits the bedside table, his face settled in an angry snarl as the Red Hood’s arm bars his throat, straddling the Owl's body to keep him pinned. There is an equally feral snarl on his face, teeth bared with animal aggression. Finally he has the upper hand, he was in control now and the Owl was at _his_ mercy. Nearly high on adrenaline and endorphins he does the only thing that comes naturally and kisses him.

The kiss is nothing like the kisses they had before; this kiss is a battle, the locked jaws of two snarling, slavering beasts fighting for dominance, both trying to force the other to submit using only teeth and tongues. The Red Hood can’t say how long it went on for, only that the deadlock of their furious fight wasn’t broken until after their lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. When it finally breaks it is because the need for air is too great. They pant with only inches between them, close enough to feel the breath of the other as they regain their strength. Dark eyes filled with hate meet each other as they both fight to be the one that recovers first. The Red Hood finds his eyes drawn like iron to a magnet by the Owl's mouth.

The need to escape tries to assert itself over the urge to kiss him again. The Red Hood knows if he does he’s not going to be able to stop, it’s like a wonderful, terrible drug, and he will have no chance of getting out of here. His cock twinges at the thought and the Red Hood becomes keenly aware that he still has Owlman’s cum dribbling down his thighs. The pull towards it is immense. Rage and lust boil inside him in a potent mix. He wants to fight the Owl and win. He wants to hold him down and show him every torture, every indignity, he had put the Red Hood through. He wants to kiss him until they’re both bleeding and he wants to ride Owlman’s cock while doing it.

The silence between them drags on. The fallen alarm clock continues to tick upside down on the floor. Every second he waits it becomes harder to remember why he wants to escape. Any second now the Owl was going to recover and fight him to the ground. They were barely gasping now, the Red Hood can’t focus on anything but his lips. Any second now. Any second...

Now!

He forces his hand closed around the neck of the lamp and it shocks the rest of him into action. He throws it, already diving towards the glass before it breaks. The glass shatters and a concealed sensor outside the window activates, dropping a lattice of bars over the window. The Red Hood has no time to react, he's already in the air, but the Owl's hand grabs his ankle and forces him to the ground. The Red Hood lands in the glass shards and they stab into his arms and chest. He snarls, already feeling around for one large enough to use as a knife, when Owlman pins him down and forcibly traps his bleeding arms behind his back.

The Red Hood spits and swears in three different languages as Owlman forces him to his feet. Neither knows what to say about the kiss, as if mentioning it will break some kind of spell. Instead the Red Hood snarls and screams and fights uselessly as he is recaptured. He is chained back down in the cold and the bright lights. Owlman carefully removes each shard with a pair of tweezers, before cleaning, disinfecting and bandaging each cut. The Red Hood stays in a sullen silence, keeping his eyes steady and dark with loathing even though he can’t see if the Owl is looking at him. There are no more words said between them. After his wounds are treated and bound with the bandages tied so he can’t remove them the Owl leaves him. The door seals behind him.

The Red Hood slowly sinks to his knees then lies down on the floor. He curls up into a fetal position and hides in his head in his hands. Silently a tear runs down his face, then two, until his shoulders are shaking violently and he’s not sure if he’s crying, laughing or trying to throw up.

The next day he escapes. Owlman lets him go. He hasn’t changed the cuffs or the security of the room. He could have but the Red Hood thinks he has finally tired of tormenting him. After all, he had gotten what he wanted in the end. The Red Hood breaks out of the torture chamber into the familiar cave system and runs as soon as he hears the dogs start barking. He sees the Owl watching. Maybe. The mask hid his eyes so he could have been looking anywhere when the Red Hood kicked away one of the Aces (Clubs for its dappled coat) and fell over the waterfall.

He nearly passed out as the current battered him, before clawing his way to shore and feeling his way into the dark network of tunnels that honeycombed the land under Gotham. It took him two days without sleeping before he ran into one of Waylon’s Children and they took him back to the surface.

After that he returned to his rooms in the Arkham Manor basement, was fussed over by Jeremiah, and had his bandages changed. Then at last the Red Hood curls up, in new clothes, but on a familiar narrow bed in the safe, _comforting_ dark and finally lets the enormity of what he had done wash over him.

He had kissed Owlman. He had kissed a mass murderer, a man who feed on the pain of others like a vampire, the White King of Gotham. He hadn’t been forced, or acting, or drugged, or tricked. He had kissed him and it had been of his own free will. He had kissed the Owl because he wanted to.

He _wanted_ to.

He was broken, the Red Hood thinks, there was no way he could deny it any longer. Owlman wins, damn him. He always wins.


	3. Bargaining

It would be too much to hope for peace in Gotham. It had become its own turn of phrase; hell will freeze over when there was a quiet night in Gotham.

Only outsiders thought Gotham was free. From the outside it might appear that way; there was no all-seeing god-like dictator demanding daily worship to be appeased or smiting unbelievers with divine fire like in Metropolis. The White King and his Court of Owls ruled from their perch in the shadows as half a myth. They were an urban legend, a horror story told by parents to frighten disobedient children until the moment when, all of a sudden, the stories weren’t stories any more. A few disconnected killings, was the official police report, but there were darker whispers in the shadows and the fear grew and the tales twisted in the retelling. No-one knew exactly how many he had killed. He rarely claimed his crimes, instead letting copycats confuse the numbers while he got away with things that were never uncovered.

If he hadn’t felt it pressed against him he would doubt Owlman possessed a human body. Or perhaps possession was the word for it. The Owl seemed to be some ancient elemental spirit of the night barely contained by his human skin. It was easy to think of him as the madness of Gotham distilled. The Red Hood often had to remind himself Owlman wasn’t a god; he was human. The words ‘ _only_ human' didn’t apply to the great bird of sorrows, who was always watching. Barely human was more accurate. His rage when the Crime Syndicate had dragged him from the shadows and forced Gotham to accept he was real, that had certainly been…godly.

There had been no sign of the Owl for weeks. That didn’t mean he hadn’t been making moves, just that they hadn’t caught him. The Justice Underground were stretched too thin for that. Owlman had a nasty habit of layering plans upon plans until you only saw him move when he wanted you to.

Maybe that was why this situation was setting his teeth on edge. It wasn’t like the Owl to take hostages or make demands. Owlman moved like a shadow, leaving blood dripping behind him. By the time you knew who he was targeting they were already dead. He played the nerves of the city like a string instrument, keeping the populace in a constant state of fear that often broke out in violent directionless riots as if the oppressive atmosphere was something that could be punched. You couldn’t fight it any more than you could fight a city. The entirety of Gotham was one big roiling mess of paranoia and instability. It was the motto he had indoctrinated his Talons with, even had it made into a damn coat of arms. Non est tutum locum – There is no safe place.

Gotham was free, maybe, but it was free because it was in constant turmoil, whenever anyone seemed to be getting enough of a foothold to bring some order to the chaos the Owl dragged them into the dark and took their bones.

The Red Hood had lost too many friends to the Owl's claws. Owlman had laughed, he had considered them good hunts. He had even shown the Red Hood his trophies, small personal things he had taken from the bodies and death masks of his victims in white bone china made from their own bones. He called it his Rogue’s Gallery. It was sick and darkly stylish in a way that was all the Owl's.

The Red Hood was lucky he was in the area when he had spotted the familiar flash of the bone plated cape. By the time Commissioner Wayne’s boys in blue found out Owlman had been here, there would be nothing to do but clean-up and hope there were survivors. The Red Hood had been trying to stop him when the Owl had darted into what should have been an abandoned building. Now he is trying to avoid meeting the eyes of the weeping woman in the corner of the loft. Her hair is messy, her clothes plain and it clear she had just been woken from her thin pallet of a bed by the Owl. She clutches her child to her chest, a little girl no older than ten. The Red Hood struggles not to look at them; he can’t afford to take his attention off Owlman. The Owl had a nasty habit of orphaning children. He enjoyed leaving a witness who wouldn’t be believed, knowing the fear of him would grow through the story’s retelling.

Owlman smiles.

“Hello Red.” He says in that half purring tone that sends heat to between the Red Hood’s legs. Damn him and damn classical conditioning.

“Let them go.” The Red Hood demands as he steps from the shadows.

“Why would I do that?” Owlman asks with a soft smile, like this is a conversation with a friend.

The Red Hood takes a step towards him and the Owl holds up one hand. Between two gloved fingers is a simple black remote with one button on it. The Red Hood stops dead. For the first time he notes the metal collars around the necks of the pair of hostages, each with a flashing red light to indicate they are armed.

“Please...” The Red Hood says softly. “Don’t do it.”

“I hate witnesses.” Owlman replies, his voice flat and emotionless.

The woman starts to babble, a high-pitched desperate plea for her life and the life of her daughter. The Red Hood winces as he sees the Owl’s frown lengthen. Owlman liked the quiet; he didn’t appreciate it when hostages tried to intervene instead of being silent pawns in his game. To him they were already dead, it was excessive that they grate on his ears too.

“What do you want?” The Red Hood asks him, hoping the woman will take the cue and stop begging. She does, though it seems to be more from sheer fear than anything else.

“Everything.” The Owl says softly. The Red Hood doesn’t doubt he’s telling the truth but he reads the unspoken question ‘What will you give me?’

His finger hovers over the button.

Damn him, damn him, damn him! This was a trap, a trap set specifically for _him._ Owlman wanted to see how far he would go to save a life. He doesn’t have long before the Owl decides he doesn’t need _two_ hostages to do this.

“A blowjob.” He blurts out without thinking.

Owlman freezes. What can be seen of his face is unreadable, but he doesn’t seem any closer to pressing the button.

“You’re really offering that?” He says in a completely blank tone that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking.

Despite the little voice in his head telling him to back out now while he can still claim it was a joke he doubles down. Something in the Owl’s face looks like he’s open to the offer; it might be the only thing he has that would save both hostage’s lives. The Red Hood has to sell this, it’s humiliating but it might be the only way to save both of them. The only thing he has to offer the Owl is his own pain.

“Me on my knees in one act of perfect obedience, humiliated and serving you.” The Red Hood offers softly. “Just like you wanted.”

There is a moment of heart-stopping tension as the Owl considers in silence. The Red Hood watches the hand holding the remote, knowing that even if he throws himself forwards he wouldn’t be able to stop him from pushing the button but getting ready to try anyway.

“Very well. I accept.” He says.

There is one chair in this husk of a room, the Owl sits in it with his legs spread. He beckons with one curled finger with that fucking smirk on his face, that fucking smug little grin he got when he was getting his way. The Red Hood has to bite his tongue to keep himself from lunging at him. He hated him, he hated him so much. If the remote wasn’t being held so close the Red Hood would have risked charging him just to see if he could wipe it off his face before the Owl broke something of his.

The Red Hood closes the distance between them slowly to give himself time to compose himself. The Owl could be terribly petty, and this was one situation where he would be looking to be more difficult than usual just to twist the knife. Loathing every second of this the Red Hood drops to his knees in front of the Owl.

Owlman’s grin lengthens. Someone unfamiliar with him, and sometimes the Red Hood felt he was the only one this familiar with him, wouldn’t have noticed it but the Owl was basking in his victory. The absolute _bastard._ Hate burns inside the Red Hood and fills his mouth with the taste of acid. He raises his head, even though their masks cover them he feels their eyes meet. There is a challenge in the Owl’s empty, black eyes.

“Take off the mask Red.” He orders quietly.

The Red Hood takes a deep breath and raises his hands to it. The child whimpers and the Red Hood instinctively turns towards the sound. Owlman clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Only look at me.” He orders.

“She has a kid.” The Red Hood points out. “Let them leave the room. You have the remote. You’re in control here.”

“You’re right, I _am_ in control.” Owlman says. “And I _want_ an audience.”

The Red Hood wordlessly pleads for his appearance to stay a secret between them. The Owl tilts his head upwards.

“Take it off.” He orders.

The Red Hood breathes out and lifts the hood. The child gasps and his hands tighten on the edge of his helmet, turning his knuckles as white as his skin. God he hated it, he hated it so much. It was the same gasp every time when they realized what he was and he went from a hero to something to be afraid of. A monster. A _freak._

Owlman reaches down and strokes the Red Hood’s cheek. Without words he is saying ‘I am the only one who loves you for what you are.’ The Red Hood lets his eyes fall to the grimy concrete floor as a shiver of disgust runs through him.

His eyes flit to the woman and he raises one finger to his lips. The woman nods and clutches her child closer. The young girl is already hiding her face in her mother’s shirt, her mother covers her ears with both hands but doesn’t dare look away.

The Owl snarls and tugs his head back to face him.

“I _said_ only look at me.” He orders and leans in closer. “Lives are depending on your performance here Red, if I’m not satisfied I’m going to blow their brains out.”

For a moment the Red Hood is speechless, then anger flashes into his eyes, followed by despair then a bleak acceptance.

“I’m sorry Owlman.” He says.

The Owl shakes his head.

“Call me Master.” He orders in a soft tone that is _daring_ him to argue.

The Red Hood swallows the bile rising in his throat at it.

“I'm sorry Master.” He says as he fights down his nausea.

Owlman’s fingers sweep through his hair.

“There’s a good boy.” The Owl croons.

The Red Hood glares up at him with eyes bright with hatred. He loathes this but Owlman loves his suffering. He doesn’t want an obedient slave, not really, he wants to force the Red Hood to submit to him. He keeps the hate hot in his eyes as he leans his cheek against the Owl's armored thigh. Owlman’s fingers sweep through his hair as he looks down on him.

“Ready to apologize properly?” He asks.

The Red Hood nods and realizes he needs to do more.

“Yes Master.” He says softly and his eyes flare with hatred.

“ _Good_ boy.” The Owl whispers and with a now loathsomely familiar click he undoes the protective armor of the crotch-plate and nothing else.

‘ _You bastard!’_ The Red Hood says with his eyes alone. ‘ _You complete and utter bastard!_ ’

‘ _Work for it._ ’ Owlman’s eyes seem to reply.

The Red Hood fights past the shiver of disgust that runs down his spine. He leans forwards and runs his hands up the Owl’s armored thighs. He breathes out and his fingers slip over the clear bulge in the dark fabric. He feels the engorged flesh twitch and grow under his fingers and fights down the bile that rises in his throat. The darker jolt of feeling, of _excitement,_ is something he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

His fingertips ghost across the bulletproof weave, searching for a way in. When he can’t find anything obvious he is forced to apply more pressure. There is a pleased grunt from the Owl as the Red Hood is forced to fondle him. He parts the layers of protective fabric without the slightest help from the Owl, growing frantic when he fears his lack of progress is going to cost a hostage their life. He feels a stab of relief when he finally pulls back the last layer of cloth and reveals Owlman’s now rock-hard erection.

The Red Hood pauses as the gravity of what he’s about to do crashes down on him. He’s really kneeling here, about to suck dick to save lives. It would be comical if it wasn’t so tragic and he has to fight down the desire to laugh. If he does there’s no way the Owl will let them go.

He gives Owlman’s cock a tentative lick to judge his reaction. The Owl’s fingers tighten their grip in his hair, he is impatient. The Red Hood quickly leans with more enthusiasm, knowing without looking that the Owl would be smirking. It takes a powerful force of will to not try and get this over with as quick as he can, he’s being judged on this performance and if Owlman thinks he is lacking he will kill them anyway. He can’t let that happen which, loathsomely, means he has to _try._

The Red Hood looks up and makes eye contact with Owlman as he slips his lips over the tip of the Owl’s erection. The Owl’s faint smile grows and his fingers sweep hypnotically through the Red Hood’s hair. _God_ , he was big, it was unfair. The Red Hood doesn’t know if he can take it all in without hurting his jaw.

He takes a grip on Owlman’s thighs as he tries to swallow it all. The Owl’s fingers tighten in his hair and shove his head down further. The Red Hood chokes and the cock in his mouth twitches.

He tries to pull himself up and gasp for air but the Owl’s grip doesn’t loosen enough for him to let the Owl’s erection slip from his mouth. His green eyes glare but after the initial shock he notes the pleased reaction and deliberately takes in enough of the Owl to choke him.

Owlman moans and it is a hot little sound. The Red Hood can’t help but feel a thrill at hearing it. He’s saving lives, he has to remind himself, he’s doing this to save someone, not because he’s always wanted to know if he could make Owlman moan.

The Red Hood starts to suck and lick, taking care to over exaggerate the largeness of the organ in his mouth to flatter the Owl’s ego. Though he wasn’t as thin-skinned as Metropolis’s tyrant was Owlman was a proud man. The Owl breaths out a satisfied sigh.

‘ _Pig.’_ The Red Hood thinks as licks at the length.

“Harder.” Owlman orders.

The Red Hood tries his hardest to comply. The Owl was like a brick wall so he tries not to feel pride when he manages to make the Owl moan. The Red Hood glares and flicks his tongue against the head.

“ _Good_ boy.” The Owl's hand strokes the Red Hood’s cheek, distended around his erection, and his fingers tighten in the Red Hood’s green hair.

The Red Hood chokes as he licks along the shaft.

“ _God,_ you are beautiful on your knees.” Owlman says with a groan.

The Red Hood promises murder with his eyes as the Owl's fingers stroke through his hair. He hates this, god he hates this so much, being forced to his knees to service a psychopath. He hates that he has to think on the best way to please him. He groans around Owlman’s cock, drawing an answering groan from the Owl.

“Do that again.” He orders and the Red Hood has no choice but to comply. He groans around Owlman’s length again.

The fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him down. The Red Hood has to focus on breathing through his nose as the Owl's erection fills his mouth and thorat.

‘ _Come on you great brute, cum already.’_ The Red Hood finds himself thinking as the wet slurping sounds seem magnified in the gloom. He wants this over with.

“Red.” The Owl tugs at his hair. “Look at me Red.” He orders.

The Red Hood looks up and meets the pitiless black eyes of the Owl’s mask. The Owl bucks his hips upwards and the Red Hood chokes with surprise shining in his green eyes. He fights to breathe as Owlman thrusts into his throat once, twice, three times, and pulls out as he cums. It dribbles over the Red Hood’s chin. The Red Hood glares but he knows what is expected of him and licks up the spilled fluid.

Owlman gives his head a condescending pat. He stands and readjusts his pants. The Red Hood watches as his finger hovers over the button. The Owl leans in close and strokes his cheek.

The Owl grins.

“Ask me nicely and I will take care of you before I go.” He offers.

A strangled oath dies in the Red Hood’s throat when he realizes he is hard. He doesn't know when it had started but his erection is pressing painfully against the fabric of his trousers, a clearly visible bulge against the black fabric. He springs to his feet, looking at the Owl with complete and utter loathing. Owlman chuckles and pushes a button on his gauntlets. With two clicks the metal collars fall to the floor. The woman grabs her child and flees without a backwards glance, leaving them alone in the gloom.

“Last chance.” Owlman says, straightening up and redoing his armor.

“Fuck you.” The Red Hood hisses, trying his hardest not to make it sound like ‘fuck me.’

Owlman laughs and takes two steps backwards, he drops through the open window and out of sight. When the Red Hood rushes forwards to pursue him he has entirely vanished into the Gotham night, leaving the Red Hood alone in an empty room with a massive erection. He sighs and smooths his hair with one hand. His plans to patrol for the night are shot. He had stopped two murders but he doesn’t feel like he has won.

The Red Hood slinks home in disgrace.

There is no-one to greet him as he slips through the freehold that was the tunnels under Gotham, thankfully, because he can’t seem to will his erection away. There is a heat lurking under his skin that demands to be satisfied and he can’t seem to extinguish it. His foul mood grows as he slips into his room and locks the door. He strips off the clothing that seems tainted by its contact with his skin and leaves it in a crumpled heap on the ground. He paces the carpeted floor in bare feet, like a big cat in a too small cage, and grinds his teeth. He chews his lower lip bloody trying to get the feel of Owlman’s cum off it. Damn the Owl, _damn him._

The Red Hood throws himself on his bed and fights to get off without thinking about the Owl. His pale body thrashes as he tries his hardest to forget what has just happened. He had forgotten his name, his past, if he had ever had a family who loved him, why was it that those things were taken from him but something he _wanted_ to forget was always in the front of his mind?! He didn’t want to deal with these feelings, he just wanted to be done.

The Red Hood writhes in the sheets as he tries to think of something other than the Owl. It’s frustrating, he can touch himself any way he wants but it is empty and unfulfilling, he can’t get the release he was aching for. He chews at his pillow as he tries another position in the hopes he gets _something_ out of it. He tries to think of nothing, nothing but the sensation of his hand. His hips stutter and shake as he futilely thrusts against thin air, desperate for some friction, when his mind projects a familiar pair of eyes into the darkness of the room and his hand slips. He pants for breath with his shoulders shivering.

What had the Owl done to him? How had he been broken so completely?

The Red Hood catches his breath. There’s nothing for it, his erection isn’t going away and there’s nothing he can do to get himself off. Just this time, just this one time, he had to use _it._ His body needed it. Next time, next time he promised he wouldn’t need it. Just this once, he promised himself, it would be the last time.

He shoves the sheets aside and makes his way to the corner of the room in bad spirits. The wardrobe there held more than just his suits; it was also where he kept the few trophies he had managed to win. One had been seeing a lot of use recently. The Red Hood reaches into the darkness and takes out one of Owlman’s gloves. He slips to the ground, leaning against one wall of the wardrobe as he closes his eyes.

The Red Hood puts the glove on, it’s too large for his slender fingers but not by too much. He flexes his fingers, feeling the armored plates flex around them. He breathes out and lets the fingertips of the glove touch skin. Immediately fire rises in his skin and he bites his lip to stifle the whimper that even a faint brush of the glove pulls from him. God, he was so pathetic. This was all it took to get him hard and leaking. He drags the fingertips of the glove down his stomach and feels the heat build. He is already panting with anticipation of release and he swears he can hear the Owl’s quiet laugh.

‘ _Look at you, you’re practically begging for it._ ’ Owlman’s imagined voice whispers in his ear. The Red Hood turns away from it, twisting against the wood paneling as the glove continues to trail lower. ‘ _I told you you wouldn’t be able to get off without thinking of me._ ’

“Shut up.” The Red Hood hisses to the imagined figure of Owlman. It was bad enough he had to resort to this without his subconscious torturing him over it.

‘ _Aww, don’t be like that Red._ ’ The Owl’s imagined voice croons in his ear. The Red Hood imagines his hand rising to caress his cheek and the glove follows before he realizes he has raised his arm. ‘ _You’re the one asking me for help after all_.’

The Red Hood can picture the sadistic smile on his face. The fingers of the glove rest just below his stomach, almost but not quite touching his aching erection.

‘ _Or do you want me to leave you like this?’_ The voice of Owlman asks.

“No!” The Red Hood yelps in a panic, entirely forgetting he’s talking with a figment of his own imagination.

The Owl’s voice chuckles.

‘ _Then tell me what you need.’_ It says.

The Red Hood’s breath catches in his throat.

“I need you.” He whimpers. “Please!”

He can feel the Owl’s smile.

‘ _There’s a good boy._ ’ He says and for the first time the Red Hood feels the fingers of the glove touch him where he wanted to be touched. He bites back a moan.

‘ _Ah ah, I want to hear you Red.’_ Owlman’s voice purrs in his ear and the fingers tighten. The Red Hood yelps. ‘ _Moan for me.’_ Owlman demands.

“Ah…Owl…” The Red Hood moans and a wave of pleasure makes him gasp as the heat fills his skin. His shoulders shiver in delight and the voice of the Owl laughs.

‘ _More_.’ It demands.

“O-Owl!” The Red Hood gasps and is rewarded with another intense burst of pleasure from the gloved hand moving on his weeping cock. “Aah…Aaaah.” He moans. “God…please.” He begs. “I’m so…I’m so close!”

‘ _I know._ ’ The Owl’s voice is smug. ‘ _Beg me Red. Say my name and I’ll let you cum._ ’

The Red Hood groans and his breath stutters in his chest as the gloved hand keeps him on the edge of ecstasy.

“O…Owl…” He gasps and his words cut off as he moans. He hears the Owl laugh in his ear. “Ow…Owl!” He fights to speak, knowing that he won’t get release until he does so. “Aaaah... _aaah…_ aaah…Owl…Owlman!”

He cums hard, spilling over the fabric of the stolen glove. His shoulders convulse as lightning shocks of pleasure run up his spine. He fights for breath and leans back against the wood of the wardrobe with his eyes still closed. In the afterglow his shame mingles with his pleasure in the submission, until that pleasure fades and all that is left is the shame. His shoulders shake as he starts to silently sob.

What was wrong with him, what diseased and twisted part of him had the Owl dragged to the surface? Why couldn’t he cum without picturing Owlman torturing him? What had the Owl _done_ to him?


	4. Depression

A storm had fallen on Gotham, a dark oppressive cloud of fear and directionless anger. Tension crackled from person to person like lightning and when people met the fear turned to riot and the sparks turned to fire. The streets were bright with the light of burning buildings and the night air was torn with screams as blood washed the gutters. The city was tearing itself apart as the people lashed out in unthinking fear, without knowing what it was that made dread seep into their very bones. Children woke sobbing from nightmares as violence broke out in the streets, a fruitless attempt to fight with fists and fury the darkness that engulfed the city. The police force had barricaded themselves behind the burned-out hulks that had been their cruisers, ambulances had been looted down to the chassis to leave the injured bleeding out on the streets. The fire station was on fire.

The Red Hood worked himself to the bone trying to save who he could until the deep hopelessness of the situation made him long to abandon the city to flames. Let them burn, burn, burn until there was nothing left but bones and ashes. Then there might finally be peace in Gotham, then he could finally die, then there might be an _end._

It was said that when the cat’s away the mice play, but mice don’t think about the future and people do. It has been four months, eighteen days and counting since he had last seen as much as a feather of Owlman. Not just Gotham has been freed, in Metropolis Luthor fought for freedom as the Cult of the Sun God, lashed out against their own members in assigning blame for their God forsaking them, declaring heretics to be hunted down and executed. The entire Crime Syndicate was absent, and the world was in revolt. The rest of the Justice Underground worked tirelessly to improve their cities, doing their best to improve lives before the tyrants returned to reclaim their domains. In other cities there was a fight to be free. In Gotham it was a fight to stay alive.

It was driving the Red Hood mad. Owlman had been his entire life, everything he is, it was to protect others from him. Now he was gone, and the Red Hood was falling apart. He didn’t know what to do anymore; every bone in him ached to leave Gotham to its pyre and just _sleep._ Maybe he could hibernate until the Owl came back and he was needed again. Maybe then this pain would stop.

The Red Hood woke up crying more nights than not, with his fingers desperately clawing at the sheets for something warm to hold onto. Why was he like this, Owlman wasn’t a good person, he shouldn’t be _mourning_ the murderer but he was. He missed when the cruel and unpredictable tyrant had this city under his thumb. He missed _him,_ in ways that left him aching and frustrated. He is desperate to hear the Owl’s voice again, to feel his touch, even if it hurt him. He hated the Owl, he hated him so much, so why was there a hole in his heart without him?

Damn him, _damn him._ How did he do it? How did the Owl get him so twisted in the head he couldn’t think about anything else? It made him want to cry and he did, great twisted sobs he hid from the Underground because he could never explain why he was crying. The fire under his skin couldn’t be extinguished any more than the burning buildings could. He’d tried but the glove didn’t give him satisfaction any more, no matter how he pleaded to the ghost of the Owl for release. He’d gone to more and more extreme lengths to try and feel _something,_ until it was more pain than pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

He’d started getting reckless; last night he had let himself get shot just to feel the sharp burst of agony over the ache of loss in his bones. Later, in his rooms, he had met his gaze in the mirror as he dug in to tear out the bullet and gotten hard.

He couldn’t live without Owlman, he was withering and dying just like this city was dying. If his friends noticed, they couldn’t help him, he wasn’t the only one burning here.

Then, then it happened.

Ultraman returned like a comet, trailing fiery death and foul omen. Three hundred had died in the first second of re-entry and the cult exulted in the return of their god and the slaying of the heretics. With his usual lack of tact, the brute went about the business of re-establishing his empire.

One by one the others returned and, with great brutality and cruelty, ground the populace under their heels and let them know their brief freedom could never have lasted.

And Gotham...stilled. There was no outward change, nothing so obvious, but the fires burned out without fuel to sustain them. The fear faded into the usual dread of the Gotham night. Things would be rebuilt enough for the next fire to have something to burn. Somewhere in the dark, the Red Hood knew, someone would swear they would never let this happen again. In the mind’s eye he saw them stand up and rise right into the waiting claws of the Owl. The cycle of ripe and ruin starts again.

Owlman is back. He has to be. The Red Hood needs him to be back.

He wrote down a series of numbers on the face of a playing card and wedged it between bars where it was out of the wind and rain but in clear view of the cameras he knew watched the alleyway off Park Row. Anyone else might think it had simply been dropped and mistaken the code for a phone number, instead of a time and place. The Red Hood knows his message has been received when the card disappears without a trace.

He doesn’t stop to question his actions or tell anyone what he has done as he runs to the meeting place. His pulse seems to sing with the Owl's name.

There is no denying, in the depths of his darkness he has been broken.

He is panting and licking his teeth like a beast in anticipation of a kill as he takes his mask off. The Red Hood rests his head against the rough brick and fights to control his breathing. His cheeks are flushed, his shoulders shaking, and the feeling of deep and utter despair is its own kind of high. While the fires in the city were quelled, the fire under his skin grew and grew until he felt he must be glowing as he waited in the dark of the alleyway for Owlman to find him. He closes his eyes and lets the bittersweet darkness of despair wrap around him.

“Hello Red.” It says.

The Red Hood snarls and leaps at him with a scream of rage. The Owl laughs and steps away from him. The cape of layered plates of bone-china feathers swishes silently around his feet as he steps lightly backwards, drawing the Red Hood into following him in the familiar dance.

“Missing me in more ways than one?” He asks in the face of the Red Hood’s rage.

The Red Hood manages to get one solid blow to his jaw, hitting hard enough to draw blood. Owlman smirks, leaning in as he licks the blood from his split lip, and returns the blow with a crack. The Red Hood’s head snaps to the side, he falls to his knees as he stumbles and light bursts in his vision. The Owl grabs him and shoves him up against the bricks, yanking up his head with one hand so he can see the Red Hood’s eyes and tightening the other around his throat.

“How dare you?!” The Red Hood hisses with tears rolling down from wild eyes. His shoulders convulse violently. He leans forwards against Owlman’s restraining hand, tearing out his own hair by the roots, and presses his forehead against the Owl’s. “How dare you leave!”

The Red Hood kisses him in an ugly snarl of spilled blood and clashing teeth. The kiss isn’t fighting for dominance; it is frantic and hungry and desperate, and tears are still trailing down the Red Hood’s pale cheeks. When the Owl pulls back he sees the Red Hood’s eyes are filled with despair. Owlman’s expression softens.

“Red.” He says softly, sounding genuinely touched. He caresses the Red Hood’s cheek and notes the way his eyes close as he shivers in delight and presses himself against the gloved hand. “Oh Red, you’ve broken so _perfectly._ ”

He presses closer to the Red Hood and the pressure of his body is warm and comforting. The Red Hood rests his head against the Owl’s chest, nuzzling close to him as he cries. The restraining hand begins gently stroking his hair and the one around his throat goes to the Red Hood’s shoulders which are violently shaking with soundless sobbing. The Red Hood’s arms raise to desperately claw at the plate armor of the Owl’s back in a wordless plea. The Red Hood can’t stop crying, he is so exhausted from it that he feels he is on the brink of passing out.

He can’t tell how much time has passed with the Owl muttering soothing words but little by little the numbness fades and leaves nothing but sorrow in its place. He can’t acknowledge the sickness in this situation when every part of him is desperately grateful that Owlman is back. He pathetically cuddles against the Owl’s chest for the faintest warmth. Owlman’s gloved fingers stroke his cheek.

“You’re beautiful Red.” He says softly.

The Red Hood looks up with his eyes pitch black with despair as the sobs shake his shoulders.

“It must have been hell for you.” The Owl says, sounding proud rather than sorry.

Owlman kisses him, softly, gently and the Red Hood is breaking. He wraps his arms around the Owl’s neck.

“I need you!” The Red Hood says urgently, as if he’s afraid Owlman won’t hear him. “I need you, I need you, I need you and-and…”

His voice stutters and his shoulders shake.

“It’s okay, I’m here now.” Owlman whispers as he strokes the Red Hood’s skinny shoulders. “I’m here.”

“I need and you…” The Red Hood whimpers. He looks up, his hair falling over his eyes. “Where…?” He asks in a croak.

“An alien warlord decided to liberate Earth. The Syndicate objected.” Owlman replies with a small derisive snort the Red Hood knows means ‘Ultraman was insecure idiot again and dragged me into a fight.’

The Red Hood fights for breath.

“N…Next time, take me with you.” He begs.

The Owl’s breath catches in his throat.

“…Do you know what you’re saying?” He asks in a soft whisper. “If the Syndicate found you, they’d kill you Red.”

“…Better dead than alone.” The Red Hood’s voice is so quiet it is nearly inaudible.

“Oh _Red_.” The Owl whispers reverently as he strokes the Red Hood’s cheek. “I promise I’ll never leave you alone for that long again.”

“Promise?” The Red Hood asks in a whisper, half craving confirmation and half not sure he had heard right.

“I promise.” Owlman kisses his forehead.

He smiles a fond smile and strokes the hair back from the Red Hood’s eyes, then he steps back and the Red Hood yelps with the sudden, sharp burst of fear that Owlman might leave again. He reaches desperate, shaking fingers towards him with his eyes desperately pleading the Owl not to leave him alone.

“Red, are you still mine?” Owlman asks, and his tone is interrogative, accusing.

“Yes! Yes, I’m yours!” The Red Hood blurts out as fast as he can. His shoulders tense in fear at the thought he might not believed, as if something he has done has given Owlman reason to doubt the fact that is the core of the Red Hood’s being.

“And you’d do anything to prove it?” The Owl asks.

“Yes! Yes! Anything!” The Red Hood pleads with panic clear on his face. “Everything! Whatever you want!”

“You only think of me, you only let me touch you?” Owlman demands to know.

“Yes! Only you!” He begs the Owl not to go. “Always only you! I’m yours!” He sobs. “I’m yours…I’m yours…” He repeats the words over and over.

Owlman smiles as the Red Hood turns the quiet words into a mumbled mantra of madness and leans in.

“ _Good boy._ ” He whispers in the Red Hood’s ear.

The Red Hood breaks out in goose bumps as a wave of extreme pleasure sweeps over him. He shudders and the Owl strokes his cheek. The Red Hood’s eyes slide closed as he leans into the touch, pathetically grateful for it. The Owl smiles.

His fingers trail down the Red Hood’s neck to the collar of his shirt. The Red Hood’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, his arms are immovably heavy but pleasantly warm as Owlman undoes his shirt buttons. The soft sigh of the Owl’s satisfaction as he parts the shirt and reveals his new favorite canvas sends an electric shiver of pleasure down the Red Hood’s spine. With the tip of one finger Owlman traces the knotted line of a scar over his ribs.

“You bear my marks so well…” He says and smiles. “But it’s time I added to them.”

Before that smile would have been the most horrifying thing to the Red Hood. Now he’s exulting in the fact that Owlman is about to cause him pain.

Owlman grabs his hair and tilts his head back, turning it from side to side like an artist examining a canvas. The Red Hood’s tongue nervously flits out to moisten his lips as the Owl’s eyes seem to be burning into his skin. The Owl’s hands go to his belt, and the Red Hood _knows_ how many tools there were to cut and burn and _torture_ , that just thinking about any of them on his skin makes him feel dizzy. He’s sunk fully into the darkest depths of masochism where Owlman could do anything to him and he would worship him for the experience. It’s a foul, loathsome place, but it’s also thrilling in dark ways he doesn’t have words for to know that he is truly the Owl’s property.

Owlman must have seen something of the depths of depravity in his eyes because he leans in closer and presses his lips against the Red Hood’s too tenderly to feed the deep hunger for pain growing inside him.

“ _I’m going to brand you._ ” He whispers in the Red Hood’s ear and the Red Hood groans. “I’m going to leave my mark burned into that pretty white skin of yours so that anytime anyone sees it they know who you belong to.” He leans in closer and the warmth of his body so close is enough to send a wave of pleasure sweeping over the Red Hood’s skin. “ _And when no-one can see it, you’ll still feel it hot against your skin reminding you that we did this and you wanted me to.”_

The Red Hood gives a heartfelt groan. He could cum just from this closeness if the Owl asked him to. Some dark part of his soul is alive for the first time.

“Please…” He says in a faint whisper.

“Please what?” Owlman asks.

“Please mark me Master.” He begs and means it with every fiber of his being. He knows he’s done well when the Owl breathes out a contented sigh and kisses his neck, slowly but firmly sucking bruises into it.

“That’s a good boy.” He whispers and the Red Hood can’t help the shudder that runs over his entire body.

Owlman’s tongue finds that spot under his ear that is nearly enough to make him cum and his limbs go weak. The waves of heat roil under his skin, leaving him completely at the Owl’s mercy, just as the master likes it. The gloved fingers of the Owl trace across the scars that cross the Red Hood’s chest as he looks for the best place to put his mark. Each feather-light touch combined with the achingly slow kisses along his jawline makes the Red Hood gasp and his eyes squeeze closed as he shudders with the anticipation.

He can _feel_ the Owl smirk against his neck as he finds the perfect spot of yet unmarked skin at the top of the Red Hood’s left shoulder and presses his palm flat against it. The Red Hood yelps with anticipation of pain and the Owl chuckles, continuing to press tortuously slow kisses to the Red Hood’s neck as his chest shudders with quickening anticipation of agony.

“Wait for it.” The Owl says and captures the Red Hood’s lips.

The Red Hood moans into the unexpected kiss, hungrily returning it as Owlman’s tongue curls around his own and steers him into growing waves of heated pleasure that boil inside his skin without satisfying him. The heat grows hot enough to burn, until the Red Hood realizes it isn’t just his arousal, the palm the Owl has pressed to his shoulder is heating enough to burn his skin. He groans into the kiss and the Owl smiles as he realizes the Red Hood has started to notice the heat. His other hand ghosts teasing fingertips up the Red Hood’s side and flicks one already rock hard nipple. The Red Hood’s breath stutters in his throat and his head jolts back against the brick work. His eyes squeeze shut briefly and the Owl chuckles, relaxing the kiss so he can hear more of the Red Hood’s moans.

Slowly but steadily the heat grows to searing even through his acid-scarred skin and his back twitches against the wall with desire to pull away from the source of the pain. Owlman licks at his lower lip, almost tenderly teasing as the Red Hood clenches his teeth and hisses against the pain. His body tenses against it as he slams his head back against the bricks and his fingers curl into fists.

“That’s it.” Owlman says encouragingly. “Show me all those uninhibited reactions. You know I love to hear your pretty voice.”

The Red Hood can smell his flesh singeing as a whimper of pain leaves his clenched teeth. It’s a second degree burn already and the Owl is showing no signs of removing the brand any time soon. The whimper becomes a yelp, then he can’t keep his teeth clenched any more as the yelp becomes a cry. He sobs in pain and his neck jerks uselessly as he tries to tug himself free of the burning grip. The concentrated heat is already hurting worse than any other burn he’s had, even at the hands of the Owl or the deep burn tracks left by Ultraman’s heat vision. Unlike the drowning pain of his chemical disfigurement which had saturated every part of him, this pain was all concentrated in one spot.

“Aaah…God, it hurts.” The Red Hood whimpers. “Aaaah…It hurts, it hurts.”

“I know it does sweetheart.” Owlman says in a mocking tone and presses another kiss to his neck.

“AaaaAAAAH!” The Red Hood yelps, his fingers curling and uncurling as he fights to distract himself from the growing pain. The sour smell of his own scorching flesh is familiar to him now but it is still terrible. He gnashes his teeth uselessly and nearly chokes on another cry. “It hurts! It hurts so much!”

He chokes on a sob. The heat of his own cooking flesh has spread across his entire shoulder and he can’t ignore it any more. It’s agony, made all the worse by the fact he can’t escape it, his body is tensing uselessly against the bricks and he can’t keep the pained sobs from his throat.

“Stop. Make it stop.” He begs the Owl. “It hurts, please, make it stop.”

The mask’s black eyes are pitiless as he pleads. The heat grows, the pain sinking in deeper. The smell of his own burning flesh rises in thin threads of smoke rising around the Owl’s burning hot hand.

“Owlman, _master_ , please!” He begs as tears start to roll down his cheeks, tears of desperation and agony and a wordless plea for an end to this pain.

Owlman tilts his head to the side, seemingly curiously looking in on his reaction, before leaning in and licking up his tears. The Red Hood breaks down into disconnected begging syllables, his body frantically but uselessly thrashing against Owlman’s grip. His sobs turn into deep, pained cries that grow louder and longer as the heat grows until he is screaming with the pain of it in absolute unrestrained agony. His screams of pain rise unheeded into the Gotham night and his eyes squeeze tightly closed as his body judders uncontrollably. In one moment of crazed pain-addled delirium he wonders if it is going to burn all the way through his shoulder and into the brick below.

Then the glove is removed and the Red Hood collapses, held up only by the weight of Owlman’s body as he fights to catch his breath. His shoulders heave as a wave of nausea breaks over him and he nearly throws up before sucking in a lungful of air as violently as a scream in inverse. His shoulders are shaking uncontrollably, and he is so _incredibly_ hard. The Owl chuckles and wipes a string of spit from his chin with his thumb.

“You look like you enjoyed that.” He says, indicating where precum has left a wet spot on the front of the Red Hood’s pants.

The Red Hood isn’t in any position to respond, he can barely breath, let alone think straight. The Owl pats his hair as he fights for air in wheezing, pathetic gasps. Without the Owl to hold him upright the Red Hood would at least be on his hands and knees and the Owl knows this. He presses a chaste kiss to the top of the Red Hood’s hair.

“You’re going to wear my mark so well.” He says fondly and pulls the Red Hood into a surprisingly tender hug. The Red Hood slumps bonelessly into it. Every heartbeat sends a flare of pain into the mark on his shoulder, every breath in tugs at the tortured skin. He’s not going to be able to move the arm without thinking of the Owl's mark.

“ _From now on, whenever you touch yourself I want you to touch that mark and think of me._ ” Owlman whispers the order in his ear. The Red Hood nods without thinking. “Good boy.”

The Red Hood looks down at the mark for the first time.

His entire shoulder is an angry red, with a swelling circle of fluid filled blisters crackled around the blackened flakes of sloughing skin. In the center of the circle of pain is a spot that was entirely numb, the nerve endings had been burned to nothing. It was a black spot against his pale skin, spreading tendrils of red heat around it like a disease. Dribbles of blood and plasma leak from the abused flesh, in parts he has been cooked.  The emblem of the Owl has been seared deep into his flesh. The burn is going to heal to a deep scarlet red, he knows.

The Red Hood is choked up with emotion.

He clutches as his wounded shoulder and whimpers as the Owl slathers his gloved fingers in burn cream and shoves them into the wound. He nearly collapses against the Owl's shoulder as he accepts medical care from him. The Owl wanted the mark to scar neatly after all. He wraps the wound in gauze and gives the Red Hood a whispered order to take good care of it and prevent rot.

The Red Hood waits obediently against the wall as Owlman ties off the bandage and raises his hand to stroke the Red Hood’s cheek.

“You loved that, didn’t you?”

The Owl rolls his hips against the Red Hood to punctuate the question. The Red Hood clings to him as if afraid he is about to disappear again and nods. A wordless reedy whine leaves him mouth.

Owlman kisses him again, slower this time as he takes the time to thoroughly ravage the Red Hood’s mouth with his tongue. When he finally pulls away the Red Hood is panting for breath and his cheeks are flushed. The Owl smirks and rejoins the kiss, as he does he lifts the Red Hood up against the bricks. His hand slips between the Red Hood’s legs and cups him. The Red Hood is already hard, he whimpers.

“Look at you.” Owlman says in a hushed whisper as he swipes his thumb over the bulge. “You could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

The Red Hood nods and Owlman squeezes. The Red Hood shudders. His head leans back against the brick with his eyes squeezed tightly closed. The Owl smiles.

“Is this what you want?” He asks and strokes.

A strangled moan dies in the Red Hood’s throat. He shakes his head and fights to speak.

“I…” He croaks. “I nnn…I need…you…i…in…me.”

He pants heavily from the effort of speaking. Owlman smiles and swipes a finger over his lower lip.

“You don’t look like you have the strength for much.” He says and kisses the Red Hood’s cheek. “You’ve been so patient waiting for me, it makes me want to play with you.”

He kisses the Red Hood again, softly, tenderly, comforting him through his tears. The Red Hood wraps his arms tightly around the Owl’s neck and smiles into the kiss with relief. Owlman’s hands slip to his waist and hook into his waistband. With care he slides the Red Hood’s pants down and takes a firm grip on his pale thighs. The Red Hood moans into the kiss as the Owl squeezes hard enough to bruise. His hands move to grab a handful of the Red Hood’s ass. His thumb dips between the Red Hood’s cheeks and brush against his hole. He smiles to find it is already lubed.

“Look at you, you eager little whore.” Owlman smirks. “Getting yourself wet for me.”

He leans in and kisses the Red Hood’s neck.

“Don’t cum until I say so.” He orders in a soft whisper and, with a now familiar click, undoes his belt.

The Red Hood shudders and leans back against the bricks, his eyes squeezed tightly closed as he nods his understanding. Owlman drags a gloved hand up his length, making sure he is fully hard, before thrusting in. The Red Hood whimpers and chokes, his head falls forwards as he holds himself back from orgasm from sheer force of will.

“ _Good_ boy.” The Owl whispers in his ear and feels the Red Hood’s tight hole squeeze around him.

He sets a ruthless pace, thrusting hard enough for it to hurt as the Red Hood’s back is rammed against the jagged edges of the rough bricks. The Red Hood’s arms tighten around his neck and his legs wrap around the Owl’s waist as he whimpers.

Owlman breathes out a pleased sigh and cups his cheek, playing with the Red Hood’s hair as he leans in and kisses him softly. The Red Hood moans and whimpers into his mouth as the Owl nibbles his lower lip, the gentleness of the motion a sharp contrast to everything happening below the belt.

Owlman thrusts in hard and fast, normally he would take his time to torture his partner with denial, but the Red Hood has been tortured so much already it seems pointless to tease him any further. Instead he selfishly chases his own pleasure, enjoying every desperate whimper and choke from his obedient partner.

The Red Hood’s insides are hot and good, the sound of his gasps for breath and the slapping of skin against skin echoes obscenely in the stillness of the alleyway. Owlman hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this until he was inside the Red Hood again.

He groans in the Red Hood’s ear and the Red Hood gasps as he fights not to cum. The Red Hood’s body is squeezing him so tightly, his hands scrabbling uselessly at the Owl’s armor and his breath is stuttering with high, desperate gasping. It would be impossible for Owlman to hold himself back from fucking him as hard as he could.

He drives in with a pitiless precision, hitting the spot inside the Red Hood that made him gasp and nearly break his promise. The Red Hood’s desperate keening cry as he clings to the Owl’s shoulders is what pushes him over the edge. Owlman breathes out a satisfied sigh as the wave of pleasure breaks over him and with a last, hard, thrust of his hips, he orgasms. The Red Hood’s tight hole milks every drop of cum out of him as the Red Hood fights for breath, his hands tightly clutching the Owl’s shoulders as Owlman softens and stills. He drags one gloved hand across the Red Hood’s shaking shoulders and grips his bare, weeping shaft.

“Cum.” He orders and the Red Hood practically fountains. His entire body stiffens, and he blacks out for several seconds as four months’ worth of pent-up sexual desire spills over the Owl’s glove. His heart stops for a second before a full body shudder runs over him. Owlman gently strokes his hand down the Red Hood’s shaft, milking every last drop of semen from him in messy spurts that drip over the glove and onto the concrete.

Owlman thinks there’s a kind of poetry to it; that these same stones have been awash with the fluids of both life and death. There was a pleasing symmetry to fucking his favorite project enemy to unconsciousness in the same alleyway where he had arranged his first two murders. In a way he had been born here, in that one moment of beautiful bloodshed and inevitable tragedy, as he had looked into the eyes of the one person he had genuinely loved with all his heart and put a bullet in Bruce’s head. There was no doubt in Owlman’s mind that the one thing he loved had been his baby brother; that was why he had to die. Thomas Wayne Jr had killed his heart to kill his weakness and only then had he been reborn into the Owl’s feathers.

He didn’t love the Red Hood.

There was some…affection certainly, a raw animal attraction that was its own kind of drug, but he neither truly pitied the man, nor truly wished him gone.

The Owl found him fascinating.

Before the Red Hood he had thought of a person as a kind of vessel that could be filled up with suffering until it broke, but the Red Hood’s depths seemed infinite. No matter how much pain Owlman inflicted on him, he would crack and warp but never quit. Before he knew it, the Red Hood had elevated himself from an Enemy to a Nemesis; never giving up, never backing down, always ready to fight…Always _there_ for him, improving him, making him _better_ for the fight _._

Owlman loved the thrill of being _challenged_ ; the game had stakes again when the Red Hood was his opponent. Victory was all the sweeter for him when the Owl had fought for it. Their hatred seemed to be fated, their enmity as strong a bond as that of any star-crossed lovers. There was a form of love there, oh there was love there, a love as twisted and blackened as the Owl's dead heart. The Owl loved to be hated and the Red Hood hated that he loved him.

Owlman was unfamiliar with love; he had experienced little of it in his life. It seemed like his parents had loved him, but they had been good at seeming. They hadn’t loved him, they had been afraid of him, for good reason it turned out, but he had won in the end.

Love was…illogical. There was no strategy to it, no meaning, only sacrifice. The Owl was more experienced with desire, simple attraction, sex was a perfectly logical desire and a pleasant enough physical activity. There was no love in his relationships in the Crime Syndicate, it was a logical arrangement built on simple desires.

For a time Owlman had thought the Red Hood’s feelings was merely that, an attraction. The Red Hood wasn’t the first of his little project insurgents to be attracted to him, and he wouldn’t be the last. Attraction was simply another way to manipulate someone.

Then he had seen the depths of devotion and despair in the Red Hood’s eyes and known how deep the disease ran.

Love, hate, they were both sides of the same coin and both in their own ways powerfully attractive. The Red Hood had always loved him. Owlman had just bought it to the surface. It poisoned the Red Hood but he couldn’t deny it anymore. Their sicknesses were codependent now, they fed on each other like two snakes eating each other’s tails, a writhing, warped knot of hate and lust and pain and pleasure and submission and indoctrination twisted around what would surely prove to be a _fatal_ attraction.

He holds the Red Hood like he needs to be held and strokes his trembling shoulders, muttering soothing nonsense as the Red Hood begins to cry. The Red Hood’s fingers claw weakly at armor of the Owl’s back. Owlman strokes his hair. He feels the satisfaction of a drug dealer counting their cash while their addicted customer shoots up in front of them. The Red Hood could no longer live without him. Owlman is pleased.

The Red Hood has stopped trembling. He looks up, more aware now, but with his eyes still black with despair and the knowledge of what he has done and what he has become. He draws in a shuddering breath and turns his hopeless eyes towards the Owl. He wraps his shaking arms around himself in a desperate kind of hug, holding himself as events sink in. He looks up at the Owl with dark despair in his eyes.

“Hurt me more?” He half begs in a whisper and the Owl grins savagely. It looks like he is going to get both his wishes today.

“ _Red._ ” He snarls and presses his mouth against the Red Hood’s.

The Red Hood snarls back as their mouth meet in a hot tangle of clashing teeth and twisting tongues. They fight for control of the kiss, to make the other suffer and submit, the Red Hood’s teeth catch his lip and make it bleed but that just makes the kiss all the sweeter as the Owl returns the favor. When they finally have to break apart for air it is with each other’s mingled blood shining on their lips. Owlman feels the thrill of the hunt singing in his blood as they pant for breath, each fighting to be the one to recover first. The Red Hood’s eyes are alive again, sparkling like emeralds with the depths of his hate, but the Owl recovers first.

He slams the Red Hood down against the bricks, hard enough that the bricks have left grazes on his pale back. The Red Hood struggles, but he’s fighting to get closer not escape. Owlman grabs the Red Hood’s hair and yanks his head back. The Red Hood clicks his teeth together, his eyes shining with bloody defiance, and licks the blood from his lips. He’s already getting hard again and his pale cock juts unashamed against his stomach.

“You fucking slut.” Owlman sneers and drags a finger up his length.

“I’m not the only one…” The Red Hood says quietly and Owlman grins, running a hand down his own erect cock to show he’s unashamed of it.

“I’m going to defile you.” The Owl snarls.

“Do it, I want you to do it.” The Red Hood stares him down defiantly and Owlman can’t wait to wipe that smirk off his face.

He hits him hard enough for the Red Hood to see stars and drop to his knees as the two go down in a punching, kicking, biting, scratching mess on the alleyway cobbles. Seamlessly the fight blends into them rutting their bodies against each other in pure animal need. The Red Hood’s foot slams against Owlman’s stomach as the Owl manages to get him on his back and part his legs. The Red Hood only has eyes for him. His split lip dribbles red down his chin and he has a black eye as he holds himself up on his good hand, but the hate shines clear in his eyes and his cock rests hard against his stomach as Owlman parts his legs.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he licks his lips in anticipation and spreads his legs further for the Owl. The Owl snarls at being invited in and grabs him by the throat. He squeezes and the Red Hood’s back arches against the cobbles.  His hips raise and Owlman mounts him, pressing down on him with the full weight of his gloriously muscled kevlar-clad body. He cinches both hands around the Red Hood’s throat and squeezes as he thrusts in.

The Red Hood’s eyes roll back in his head and he nearly passes out. His head feels like it has been stuffed with warm cotton wool and he is soaring above it all on crimson wings as his mouth opens in a silent gasp. He goes entirely blind as his throat is crushed, letting only the faintest trickle of air in to keep him from entirely passing out as Owlman keeps his promise to defile the Red Hood’s body. Waves of pleasure break over him as his abused and sensitive body is battered and bruised by the Owl's attentions worse than some fights they had. His fingernails scrabble uselessly on the stones as Owlman holds him at the very edge of the void. There is a deep, dark satisfaction to knowing how easy would be for the Owl to tighten his grip another fraction of an inch and tip him into the permanent darkness of death, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He is entirely at the Owl's mercy, nothing but a toy for Owlman’s amusement.

He cums. The waves of hot pleasure are too much for him and he orgasms hard, riding out the rolling wave of sensation that threatens to tip him into oblivion. The hands around his neck release, leaving a necklace of darkening bruises around his throat. Sight swims back to him and feeling leeches back into his limbs as he can breathe again.

The Red Hood draws in one shuddering gasp for breath and Owlman picks him up and pushes him down on his knees. The Red Hood falls on his hands and knees, the rough ground grazing them as Owlman flips him onto his front and begins to fuck him even harder in doggy style. The Red Hood groans as his oversensitive body is stimulated further by the Owl brutally punishing his prostate. His legs shake violently from the overstimulation.

Owlman slams his face hard against the cobblestones, tightly gripping his hair and yanking it back as he thrusts in deeply. The Red Hood yelps in pain and the Owl grunts in satisfaction, taking the Red Hood like an animal on the street. He's humiliated but also freed by his utter helplessness to do anything but feel what Owlman wants him to. The Owl thrusts into him hard, using the Red Hood’s body as a tool for his satisfaction and all there is is the sensation that mingled pain and pleasure. Owlman even grabs the Red Hood’s cock with his other hand and strokes it as he cums, drawing a shuddering cry of pain from the Red Hood as the Owl fills him to the brim.

Owlman pulls out and gives the pale ass cheek in front of him enough of a smack to leave a red hand print on it.

“What a good boy you are Red.” He says.

The Red Hood can’t do much more than moan. He is beaten and abused, hurt as much as he was after the Owl fought him, but the pleasure had been equally intense. The Owl smiles at him and, as quickly as he had come (in more ways than one), Owlman abandons the Red Hood ass up and oozing in a godforsaken Gotham alleyway in the middle of the night to recover.

The Red Hood groans as he eventually pulls his weak and shuddering body to its feet. The black Gotham muck mingles with the red blood of his wounds running down his bleached white skin. It stings as he gets dressed and limps his way back to Arkham. He feels like a freshly fallen angel with its wings newly torn from its back, waist deep in muck and sin.

Soon, seamlessly, it blends into a new kind of normal.


	5. Acceptance

There was no way that Owlman wasn’t planning something.

The Red Hood chewed at a fingernail as he watched through the security camera.

It had been too easy, no-one had died and the Owl had barely broken bones. Now he was reclining against the wall of his cell, completely at ease even in a prisoner’s plain, dark t-shirt with sweatpants. He had been allowed enough of a mask to hide his identity. He had quietly said that revealing his face wasn’t a smart idea if you had people you loved who were still alive and the Red Hood made everyone back off. Sure, he appeared to be neutralized for now but the Red Hood _knows_ he can make good on that threat even when behind bars.

No-one knew how the Owl worked like he did. Luthor had even called it an obsession. Thawne called it paranoia. The Red Hood had told him it wasn’t paranoia when they really were out to get you and Owlman assuredly _was._

Everyone else underestimated him. No-one understood him like the Red Hood did, which is why he was alone watching the cameras while the rest of the Underground was working. That was the only reason, it wasn’t like it was an obsession or anything...

The Red Hood tastes blood and looks down to see he has chewed his way through the nail and into the flesh. A red crescent marks where he has torn nail from nail bed. He swears quietly under his breath and wraps the wound in a handkerchief.

He was fine, he was _fine,_ this was totally under control. He would find out what the Owl was planning and he would foil that plan and everyone would be safe. If he could believe that, he would believe anything...

No, Owlman was planning something and whatever it was it would be terrible and he was just sitting there and _watching..._

The figure of the Owl on the screen turns towards the camera and though it’s absurd the Red Hood can’t help but think somehow Owlman is seeing _him_ crouched over the monitoring station chewing off his fingernails with worry.

The Owl says something, too quiet for the cameras to pick up but the Red Hood was a good lip-reader.

“ _Red, I want to talk to you.”_ Owlman had unmistakably said.

The Red Hood freezes framed by the blue light of the monitors. His first instinct is to defy the Owl on principle, but there is a deep despair growing in him with every second he can’t figure out what Owlman’s plan is.

‘ _Just ask him.’_ That dark place says.

The Red Hood would like to pretend he made some heroic attempt to resist it but it was barely five minutes before he goes to see the Owl. Shameful parts of his body are already buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him again. The Red Hood tries to suppress them as much as he can but there’s no deny that he aches to talk with the Owl again.

He enters the cell block.

The Justice Underground holding cells were simple featureless cubes with one wall blocked by a laser grid force field Luthor designed that would reject anyone without the passkey microchip embedded in their skin.

Owlman turns to the door as he enters and rises from his meditative stance.

“Hello Red.” He says softly, with no menace to his tone, as if they were lovers meeting at a bar rather than prisoner and captor.

“What do you want?” The Red Hood asks, keeping his tone clipped and level. “Why did you let us capture you?”

The Owl's small sad smile makes the Red Hood’s heart twinge.

“I wanted to see you Red. I missed you.” He says softly and the Red Hood realizes that this isn’t going to be about heroes and villains.

“Well here I am.” The Red Hood mutters.

“Here you are.” Owlman replies and slowly walks closer to the ‘bars’.

“I don’t suppose you want to confess?” The Red Hood mutters half-jokingly.

“Would it change anything?” The Owl asks.

The Red Hood takes his helmet off and sighs. He runs his fingers through his hair to smooth out his helmet hair as he looks up at Owl, face to face.

“Why do we do this Thomas?” He asks. “All my fighting, all your _scheming,_ what is it worth in the end? Don’t you ever wish we could just be ordinary?”

“People like us can never be ordinary.” The Owl replies.

The Red Hood smiles a small sad smile.

“Maybe so...” He says.

There is a brief silence.

“Want to fuck?” Owlman asks.

The Red Hood chokes on a chuckle.

“What kind of question is _that_ to ask _now_?” He replies though he can’t stop himself from grinning.

The Owl shrugs.

“One of the less troubling ones.” He says in full honesty and stands.

The Owl leans against the wall mere inches from the laser grid with all the deadly grace of a natural predator.

“You look like you could use the warmth of a human connection right now Jack.” He says in a softer tone.

The Red Hood smiles and a little laugh creeps out, it was that or start crying.

“What would my teammates think if they knew I was cavorting with a known killer?” He says almost to himself.

“They wouldn’t have to know.” Owlman replies. “You can always scrub the security footage afterwards.”

The Red Hood doesn’t ask how he knew they weren’t being watched right now, or that they were alone.

“I’d think that would be the kind of thing you’d brag about.” The Red Hood says with a smile as fragile as glass.

“Not you.” The Owl says darkly and there is a real possessive spark to it that makes the Red Hood think he’s telling the truth.

The Owl smiles and the darkness disappears.

“I take it you’re considering the offer?” He says.

The Red Hood chuckles as he looks at his mask.

“I am, is that fucked up or what?” He turns his green eyes on the captive Owl. “Do you mean it?” He asks.

Owlman nods. The Red Hood steps through the laser grid and into the Owl's arms. Their lips meet in a languid, comfortable kiss. The Red Hood’s arms curl around Owlman’s shoulders and Owlman’s arms curls around his. There is peace and there is comfort in the safe, sweet darkness.

The kiss breaks and the Red Hood looks up at Owlman with a soft sorrow in his green eyes.

“What are we?” The Red Hood asks with a small, sad sigh.

“What we were always meant to be.” Owlman tells him.

“And what is that?” The Red Hood asks.

“ _Together._ ” The Owl says smugly.

The Red Hood smiles.

“Together.” He repeats and returns to the kiss.

Owlman’s hands glide from the Red Hood’s shoulders down his back and grip his ass.

The Red Hood grins and the kiss breaks. The Red Hood stands, green eyes looking into the blank ones of the mask. He never thought he’d feel comfortable in the Owl's arms but here they were.

“Half the Underground thinks you’re a vampire.” The Red Hood says wryly, his eyes focused on the Owl's lips.

“Why would they think that?” Owlman says in a perfect deadpan, as if he wasn’t a monster that haunted the Gotham night.

The Red Hood smiles.

“You’re pale and aristocratic.”  He says.

“And sexy?” The Owl asks.

“Oh, very sexy.” The Red Hood tells him and lays a hand on his chest.

 “You know I had plans.” He says softly. “For what I was going to do when I had you at my mercy, how I was going to _hurt_ you, how I was going to _break_ you, how I was going to show you every pain you put me through until you kissed my feet and begged me for mercy.”

He smiles a small sad smile.

“Then I realized that what I really wanted was to fuck you.” The Red Hood presses their bodies together. “So here’s what we are going to do, I am going to ride you and you are going to sit there and take it, do you understand?”

The Owl looks up at him and nods.

“Good.” The Red Hood tells him. He curls his arms around Owlman’s neck. “Put your hands behind your back.”

A flicker of displeasure runs over the Owl's face.

“Hands, now, or we're not going to do this at all.” The Red Hood orders.

Owlman puts his hands behind his back and the Red Hood cuffs him.

“Sit down.” The Red Hood says in a softer voice and Owlman quietly sits with his back to the wall. The blank, unreadable eyes of his mask stare up at him.

The Red Hood undoes the buttons of his jacket slowly, not taking his eyes off the Owl. He shrugs it from his shoulders and tosses it aside. His fingers undo the buttons of his shirt, sweeping down until they reach the waistband of his pants. The Red Hood feels the Owl's eyes burning into him as he slips the dark fabric down and past each thigh. The pants join the jacket on the cell floor. The Red Hood relishes the Owl’s hungry eyes on him as he straightens up to show off his red silk boxers with a bulge already starting in the center.

Owlman growls under his breath. The Red Hood smiles and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. With a shimmy of his hips he is slipping the red silk down his pale thighs and dropping it in the pile. His pale cock stands half hard against the curve of his stomach.

Wearing only the formal undershirt the same white as his skin draped over his skinny shoulders the Red Hood steps forwards. There is already a bulge forming in the grey sweatpants as the Owl spreads his legs a little further to make sure the Red Hood has noticed.

There is a tiny smug smirk on his face as the Red Hood drops to his knees. The Red Hood’s hands glide up the outer seam of each pant leg as he settles onto all fours. He nuzzles against the bulge between the Owl’s legs, getting a choked breath in return.

The Red Hood hooks his fingers into the waistband of the pants and drags them down. Owlman’s cock springs to attention.

The Red Hood presses a kiss to it before leaning in all the way and running his tongue over it. The Owl grunts and his shoulders tense as he tries to move his hands; the Red Hood knows the Owl wishes he was running his hands through the Red Hood’s hair.

The Red Hood takes in his cock until he chokes on it, pulling a groan from Owlman. He smiles and lathes it with his tongue, slicking up the length with spit and teasing it to full hardness. The Owl growls impatiently. The Red Hood presses a tender kiss to the weeping head then straddles him.

Their lips meet in a harsh clash of clicking teeth and flying spit. They hungrily devour each other’s mouths in a rough, hot battle for dominance. The Red Hood moans into the kiss as he feels the Owl's shaft slip against the curve of his back.

Owlman growls into the kiss and bites his lower lip, hard. The Red Hood whimpers and concedes, a cocky grin shows on the Owl's face at the show of submission. The Red Hood slowly settles back and guides the Owl's cock into him. He gasps into the kiss as Owlman slips easily inside him.

So he had prepared himself earlier, so he had fantasized about riding Owlman and had taken action to be ready if it happened, so what? It was worth it for this feeling.

The Red Hood groans as the Owl bottoms out inside him. He breathes out ecstatically and pauses to catch his breath.

“ _God_ Thomas, you feel so good.” He groans. The Red Hood curls his arms around the Owl's neck.

“Let me touch you!” Owlman snarls and sounds genuinely frustrated.

The Red Hood leans in and the Owl sinks his teeth into the Red Hood’s shoulder deep enough to draw blood. He gasps and his shoulders shake with pleasure.

“Thomas!” He groans.

Owlman grunts and digs his teeth in deeper. Blood trickles down the Red Hood’s shoulder. He leans in closer, wrapping his arms around the Owl’s neck and holding him close. The Owl’s teeth tighten to prove his point and he snorts to show his displeasure. He releases his bite, leaving bleeding marks that would likely scar, to kiss and nip at the Red Hood’s neck. The Red Hood shivers in delight and lets his head loll back to expose more his neck. Owlman bucks his hips upwards impatiently and the Red Hood gasps.

With care he raises himself upwards then sinks back down on the Owl's cock. He gasps as an electric thrill runs down his spine. He clings to the Owl's shoulders as he starts to move faster and harder, roughly fucking himself on the length and loving the pain. Owlman licks and sucks at the marks he has made, lapping at the blood like a vampire as the Red Hood rides him. His fingers stroke lovingly through the Owl's dark hair.

“Thomas, Thomas, Thomasthomasthomas...” The Red Hood half babbles and half begs. “ _Thomas.”_

Owlman grunts and rolls his hips upwards the best he can. The Red Hood gasps and lets his head loll back as the Owl leaves red marks all over his body.

He puts his back into the ride, curling his fingers in Owlman’s hair and hungrily lavishing kisses on the Owl's handsome face.

The Red Hood looks down on him with emerald eyes sparkling with undisguised possessiveness and lust as he tries to make the ride as pleasurable as possible for the Owl. His own pleasure fills his skin with heat but he doesn’t take his eyes off the Owl as he rides him. His cock juts hard against his stomach and bounces with every roll of his hips.

The Owl's black eyes meet his, dark and dead, and for a moment he is merely a panting animal, before he lets his head slump back against the wall.

“Fuck, _Jack.”_ He shamelessly groans for the Red Hood. A jolt of pleasure runs through the Red Hood at his praise.

Owlman's body relaxes, he lies back against the wall and enjoys being ridden. The Red Hood feels a flush of triumph. He luxuriates in being allowed the power to please the Owl.

“Thomas.” The Red Hood whispers as he kisses Owlman’s neck. “Am I doing well Thomas?”

The Owl nods and moans.

“I love how you feel in me.” The Red Hood leans in to tell him. “I want you to cum inside me Thomas. I want you to fill up my insides with your cum. I want to feel it trickle down my thighs.”

The Owl growls and swipes his tongue lustfully over the space under the Red Hood’s ear. The Red Hood smiles with his cheeks flushed with satisfaction.

“Thomas, your dick is so good.” The Red Hood croons. “So big and hard inside me.”

“ _Jack..._ ” The Owl growls.

The Red Hood kisses him again and Owlman thrusts his tongue in hard to ravage the Red Hood’s mouth. Their bodies press close together as the Owl groans into the Red Hood’s mouth. The Red Hood whimpers, he is hard, he is so very hard, but he can’t cum yet, not until Owlman is satisfied.

He moves his hips faster, impatient to hear more moans from the Owl, and Owlman obliges with a deep, heartfelt groan.

“More.” He demands and the Red Hood desperately tries to oblige.

He wants to feel the Owl come undone because of him. He is past the point of being ashamed of his desire, the sickness had seeped into the marrow, and all that was left was the sick love he had for the killer. He is desperate to please him, just to know he could. The Red Hood bites back a moan. He regrets cuffing the Owl, he wants to feel those hands on his skin again, but if he does he won’t be able to hold out much longer.

“ _God_ Thomas, it’s so good.” He groans.

The Red Hood kisses Owlman with a desperate heat, worshiping him with his mouth. God, the Owl was beautiful. He was so beautiful, it was unfair. No-one should be allowed to be that sexy.

He leans back and lets the Owl get a good look at him; legs spread, skin flushed and eyes hazy with lust as the Owl's cock slips in and out of him. _Look what you do to me,_ he says without words, _This is all because of you._

Owlman groans and the Red Hood feels his cock twitch inside him.

“ _I’m yours.”_ The Red Hood breathes unprompted and the Owl's breath catches in his throat.

His hips buck upwards with an added urgency and the Red Hood rides out the wave as the Owl grinds hard against him. Owlman drives himself ruthlessly into the Red Hood’s prostate as he comes undone. The pain and the pleasure mingle into a perfectly bittersweet sensation that is as heady as a drug. The Red Hood desperately clutches at the scarred brand on his shoulder. His shoulders shudder as the Owl fills up his insides. He is so close, so desperately close it hurts.

“Say I can Thomas. Please!” He begs.

Owlman leans in and rests his head on the Red Hood’s shoulder.

“ _Cum for me Jack._ ” He whispers.

The Red Hood groans and tenses against the Owl's body, clinging to his chest as he finally lets himself orgasm and the life leaves his limbs. He collapses against Owlman’s chest. The Owl smiles as they catch their breath together.

“You did amazingly.” He says proudly and sweeps the hair back from the Red Hood’s forehead so he can kiss it.

The Red Hood smiles happily and curls up in Owlman’s arms as the intense post-orgasmic rush warms him to the bones. He sighs contentedly and lets himself drift into a half-dozing state, safe in the Owl's arms. He was right, Owlman was always right. He had needed this, he had needed to know he could please the Owl, he had needed the Owl to allow him a little freedom. He needed to _feel_ again.

Owlman kisses him and it is soft and tender in ways the Red Hood didn’t know the Owl was capable of. It stirs something in his heart that he thought had died forever.

It is love.

The revelation is a rush. He loved the Owl; he loved his cruelty, and his anger, and his hate, he loved every part of Owlman. He even loved the brutality and the pain of being owned by him.

The same thought he had before bubbles up inside him, and this time he’s not afraid of saying it.

“I love you...” The Red Hood says softly. “I hate you, but I love you.”

The Owl chuckles and holds him close. His fingers stroke reassuringly through the Red Hood’s hair.

“I love and hate you too.” He replies sincerely.

The Red Hood sighs.

“Why can’t we just be like this...” He mutters as he curls closer. “Happy.”

“Happiness isn’t in our natures.” Owlman replies and kisses the top of his head. “That which we love, we destroy. You wouldn’t be satisfied with anything else. You need me Red.” The Owl whispers to him. “Without me you are nothing, nothing but another sad monster dying alone on the streets.”

“I’m yours.” The Red Hood whispers as he curls up against the Owl’s chest. He looks up and the loving look in his eyes is all the stronger for being genuine this time. “I'm _yours_ Thomas.” He says, as much to himself as Owlman.

“’Til death do us part.” Owlman vows and gently brushes the hair back from his face. “I promise.”

He kisses the Red Hood’s forehead and the Red Hood smiles. He slowly gets to his feet, feeling the dribble of cum starting to ooze down his thigh.

“I should head back to the monitors...” He starts to say and realizes far too late that Owlman is no longer cuffed.

The Red Hood makes a mad dash for his costume with all his tools and weapons kept within it, lying crumpled and out of reach on the ground at the other end of the cell.

“Freeze.” The Owl orders and he does.

Against his will his entire body locks up and freezes him as stiff as a statue. Even with the shrill of danger in his ears and his heart hammering in his chest he can’t move a muscle.

Owlman chuckles and slowly stands. The Red Hood strains his ears so hard it hurts as he tries to figure out what he is doing. The Owl walks up to him with a slow and careful tread.

The Red Hood hears him breathe out a sigh and Owlman’s hands touch his frozen back, sweeping down past his waist to briefly cup his buttocks. For a moment a stab of absolute fear hits the Red Hood at what Owlman could do with his completely unresisting body.

The undone pair of cuffs dangles in front of him.

“I bet you have so many questions right now.” Owlman says as he walks in front of the Red Hood. “Kneel.”

The Red Hood’s legs collapse from under him. He has no control over it. It’s as if Owlman’s voice is wired directly to his nervous system.

The Owl chuckles at the look of fear and confusion on the Red Hood’s face. He crouches down and cups the Red Hood’s cheek.

“Remember, _Hood._ ” He orders and the memories locked behind that word come flooding back in a violent rush.

There had been so much torture he hadn’t remembered, conditioning his body to respond how Owlman wanted. He had been beaten until he was more purple than white, starved, water boarded...He had been bound, gagged and blindfolded, with the Owl's clever little toys buzzing away against him and inside him and turning pleasure into pain until he screamed himself hoarse pleading for it to stop.

He remembered the brutal nights of the Owl acclimatizing his body to him, programming him to only feel pleasure from the Owl's touch, programming him to sicken and die without it, and programming him to desire what gave his master pleasure.

He remembers Owlman breaking him until he begged for it, the hot heady pleasure of absolute obedience and the pain that followed any failure. He remembers being trained to follow orders he hadn’t remembered being given, he had thought it was his own decision but it was something the Owl ordered him to do. He remembers the hours of being trained to respond to special signals, orders like the ones he had just been given.

At the end of each memory is the soft whispered words he could not disobey; forget this until I call you Hood.

“Why?” The Red Hood manages to croak.

“I told you, your suffering is entertainment to me.” The Owl says as he looks down on him. "It loses something if you're ever  _happy._ "

“Next time we’ll do this at my place.” He says bluntly. “I’ll put a collar on you and make you my pet.” He puts his hand on the Red Hood’s neck and the familiar fear of the Owl's torture dungeon feeds the rush of anticipation of being forced to submit. The Red Hood shudders in pleasure at the thought; he has no control over it.

Owlman smirks.

“Where is my equipment?” He asks softly.

“Down the corridor from here, first left, locker on furthest side of the room.” The Red Hood says, feeling lower than dirt as he tells him anything he wants to know against his will.

“And the door code?” Owlman asks.

“0801.” The Red Hood tells him. He cannot lie, he can't even think of lying.

The Owl's fingers sweep through his hair, patting him like an obedient dog.

“Good boy.” Owlman says softly. “You’ve been very helpful. Now...” He grabs the Red Hood’s unresisting head and rams it against the wall. “Sleep.” The Red Hood’s eyes switch off and he slumps.

Owlman grabs him by one pale hand and takes one of his edged cards from his costume. He presses the corner of it into the white skin, cuts a small slit in the Red Hood’s forearm and fishes around until he finds what he is looking for. Once he has it he ties one of the Red Hood’s handkerchiefs around the wound to soak up the blood and cleans up the Red Hood’s body. He redresses him and leaves him leaning against the wall, looking ruffled but not necessarily from sex rather than a fight.

He lets the Red Hood’s body slump on the floor and, with the bloodied microchip held in one hand, Owlman steps through the cell's bars. The laser grid parts around him and lets him through. With the bloodied chip in hand he goes to the storage room and withdraws his equipment. Once again safe in his white armor he heads for the monitor room.

The code opens the door and Owlman sits on the Red Hood’s chair. He easily breaks into the system and starts erasing his escape from the cameras. He pauses when he gets to the footage of the Red Hood riding him and downloads a copy of it to his own system for personal use before erasing that too.

With his tracks covered the data spike drills into the computer banks and twists them to the Owl’s will. Blowing one last kiss to the Red Hood’s unconscious image on the monitor Owlman disappears back into shadows.

He is long gone by the time the next member of the Justice Underground steps forwards to take their shift.

It takes all of ten seconds for Alexander Luthor to notice the cell that should be holding Owlman is holding an unmasked Red Hood holding his head in his hands and Owlman and his armor are completely gone along with any footage that might explain how he had done it.

He knew the effect Owlman had on his closest friend, how the Owl enjoyed torturing him more than anything. Whatever he had done, it looked bad. Luthor quickly goes to see what the damage is and what the Owl had done to escape.

When he gets there the Red Hood is curled into a tight ball of despair, holding his head in his hands. A bloodied handkerchief is tied around his arm with one edged card sitting on the floor in front of him. Blood has dried on one corner.

Luthor steps through the laser grid, the ‘bars’ recognizing his chip and letting him past. It only answers half the question of how the prisoner escaped.

“Jack, what happened?” Luthor asks him.

The Red Hood sits with his head in his hands, his shoulders violently shaking with soundless crying or laughing.

“He…He conditioned me. He got in my head.” The Red Hood whispers.

His fingers tighten in his hair, pulling out a few strands of green hair.

“He programmed me to respond to a signal. When…When he calls me Red I have to go to him.” Saying the words out loud makes them true; he just hadn’t noticed until now. The Owl hadn’t allowed him notice. “I have...I have to...”

He draws in a shuddering breath.

“What do you have to do Jack?” Luthor asks.

“Submit to him. Service him. _Please_ him.” The Red Hood whispers.

“ _Jack_.” Luthor whispers in quiet horror as the words sink in.

“When I’m a good boy, I will be safe and warm.” The Red Hood repeats like it is a mantra that has been drummed into him by hours of repetition. The words simply fly to his lips with a practiced ease though he doesn’t remember being taught them. “God, he must have given me orders I don’t remember. I don’t…I don’t remember when he told me what to do.”

The Red Hood sobs.

“Help…Help…I don’t…I don’t remember.” He pulls at his hair, his nails digging into the skin of his scalp hard enough to draw blood. “I don’t…I don’t…I don’t…” He repeats on a loop like a broken machine, unable to stop himself until Luthor puts a hand on his shoulder and breaks the connection.

The Red Hood whimpers as if struck and pulls back from the touch.

“Don’t touch me!” He yelps and scrambles backwards. The shirt falls open, showing a flash of the scarlet mark of his branded shoulder, before he protectively covers the brand and squeezes it. “Only he can touch me! I’m his…I’m his…I’m his…”

“Is that…He _branded_ you?!” Luthor’s voice goes dark with anger.

The Red Hood’s shoulders shake and he hunches over further and further until he is curled in a shivering ball. His voice grows softer until he is only mouthing the words. He sobs and shivers.

“I need him.” The Red Hood sobs. “I need him. I’ll shrivel up and die without him, like a sunflower without the sun. I can’t live without him. I’m his. I’m his forever.”

He curls up even tighter, his shoulders shaking violently and his eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance.

“I’m compromised.” He says in a voice dead of all emotion. “I don’t know...He can give me orders and I won’t _remember,_ I’ll just obey him. You can’t trust me any more. I can’t stop him.”

“We’ll help you get better.” The genius hero of Metropolis vows. “We’ll get you deprogrammed.”

“You won’t.” The Red Hood says with leaden certainty. “He won’t let you.”

He looks up for the first time and Alexander Luthor is shocked into silence by the resignation in the Red Hood’s eyes.

“I am his.” He says. “I always have been.”


End file.
